Deeper Needs of the Human Soul
by Ahvienda
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki puts his whole heart and soul into his profession. He takes care of everyone ... but who will take care of Ichigo? Enter one blue-haired, blue-eyed wild card. AU/death/language, and it's rated M for a reason. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – Another Day …**

**My first try at a Bleach fanfic. Please be gentle with me.**

**A bit of gay sex, foul language, adult situations.**

**I'm just a fan. Grimmjow, I love you! But I don't own you. *cries***

It was dark when he woke up. Then again, it was always dark when he woke up, no matter the time of day. When you worked nights, sunlight was the enemy, something to be avoided at all costs. You did have to sink some yen into it, but you could make your home a dark-as-night sanctuary, sound-proofed against the intrusive sounds of the daylight-dwellers as they scurried about outside your peaceful haven. Ichigo Kurosaki had done just that. When he'd explained his situation and needs to the apartment manager, the man had been more than accommodating. Ichigo had been allowed to apply almost-opaque tinting to all the windows in his apartment. Only the barest glow of daylight penetrated them, and to counter-act that, he had black mini-blinds and light-busting curtains, to boot. It worked.

He turned his head to look at the softly-glowing red numerals on his alarm clock. 3pm. He stretched, then pushed the sheet aside and sat up, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the bed as he rubbed his face. Trying not to think about anything in particular, he stood up and stretched again, pulled on a pair of pajama shorts, then ambled to the bathroom down the short hall. It was dark – hadn't that been made perfectly clear? – but Ichigo had lived in this apartment for two years and knew it like the backs of his eyelids.

He relieved himself and washed his hands, then left the bathroom and made his way to the huge room that was a sort-of a combined kitchen/dining room/living room. A bar-like counter jutted out from the wall, delineating the kitchen area. Glowing green numbers marked the location of his coffee maker on the counter – mmm, the smell of freshly brewed coffee assaulted his senses. Having a pot that could be programmed was the _best_. Ichigo touched metal on the small lamp that stood adjacent to the coffee maker, casting a dim glow as the night-light bulb came on. He got a large mug out of the cupboard over the counter and made his first cup of coffee of the 'day'. He'd drink it until it was gone.

It took only a moment to unlock his door and pick up the newspaper that was lying on his welcome mat. The Karakura Gazetteer was only a local rag, but it would have what he needed. He shut the door without looking down the halls, re-locked it, and was grateful when the garish light outside his door was blocked out again.

Carefully schooling his thoughts, he ambled out of the foyer, back into the kitchen area, and from there he walked into the living room. Touching a rheostat switch on the wall, small lamps bloomed into faint light in the large, high-ceilinged area. He hated overhead lighting and refused to use it, even going so far as to remove the bulbs from the fixtures in his apartment so that errant visitors couldn't accidently turn them on. Putting his cup and newspaper on the coffee table, Ichigo pulled a large photo album out of a cubby underneath the table, holding it in his lap for a moment as he allowed the events of the previous day to wash over him for just a moment. He placed the album on the coffee table and picked up the paper, going to the obituaries before he could change his mind.

Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra Schiffer, aged 26. There it was. No picture, but the boy-man's face would be indelibly printed on Ichigo's memory for the rest of his life. The obit was short and to the point. "Ulquiorra Schiffer, 26, succumbed after a long battle with illness." Ichigo didn't care what words his family used to alert the rest of the world about Ulqui's death, he knew the truth, the whole truth. And that was enough.

He removed scissors from that same cubby and carefully cut the obituary out of the paper. He smoothed it with his fingers, staring down at Ulqui's name. Tears blurred his vision as he opened the photo album to the next available empty page, not looking at the others preceding it. This was Ulqui's time. A roll of tape came out of the cubby, too, and Ichigo used it to carefully place the newspaper article in the center of the page, taking the time to make sure it was centered perfectly. Then he sat there, staring at it.

He'd gone to Ulqui's funeral, of course (wearing black and the darkest sunglasses he could find), he always went, for his … charges? His loves? How to describe them? He always hit this wall when he thought about them. Still unable to define his relationship with those he loved, instead he closed his eyes and thought about Ulquiorra Schiffer. Small and pale, his little body lithe and graceful even in the state he'd been in. Black uneven hair, with a long lock that absolutely refused to stay brushed out of his face – it'd hung down right between Ulqui's eyes, ever since Ichigo had known him. Beautiful green eyes with straight black brows, almost always drawn into a frown. Those oddly attractive tattoos – the same green as his eyes, making long straight lines from his eyes to the strong lines of his jaw, as though the color was leaking out of his irises, as though Ulqui was crying green tears. Ichigo sighed heavily, tears prickling his eyelids. He'd thought he'd done all his crying yesterday. Once again, as always, he cursed himself for his inability to stay detached.

Some of the people who had known Ulqui near the end of his life never got to see him with his eyes open. Did they truly not understand that the light _hurt_ them? At night, when the overheads were out and the lamps were softly lit, Ulqui's eyes would sometimes open, sometimes move, sometimes follow Ichigo as he moved around the room. Those big beautiful green eyes. Ichigo would look into them for minutes at a time, his own gaze loving and accepting, giving Ulqui a human interaction, whether he could respond to it or not. Ichigo had loved him. And now he was gone.

A small sob tore its way out of his chest, and he clamped the scrapbook to his chest, rocking back and forth. Ulqui. Ulqui. Ulquiorra. Wherever you are, I will never forget you. Never! For the next hour, Ichigo Kurosaki mourned Ulquiorra Schiffer, burning his face into his memory (even more than it already was), almost torturing himself with visual images of the boyish man.

XXX

When it got dark, Ichigo left his apartment and did all those little things humans have to do in order to survive in this world. He went to a street stand and had some ramen, he went shopping, he sat in the park alongside the river and smoked, staring at the black water as it rushed past. The stars shone in the inky blackness of the night sky, and Ichigo looked up at them, wondering if Ulqui could see him, from wherever he was. If all of them could see him. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the sky, a little smile curving his lips. "I love you," he whispered. A beat … then he opened his eyes and looked around. No-one there to see him, thank God. He always got maudlin at these times. It would take a few days for him to get back to himself, even though a small part of him would always be Ulqui's, just like little pieces of him had been sacrificed to all the others. He wondered, briefly, how much of him was left. Would he ever get to the place where he had no more to give? He hoped not. He was needed.

On the way back to his apartment, he bought a bento from the nearby convenience store. It would be his lunch later. Locking the door behind him, Ichigo glanced at the clock and realized he needed to start getting ready for work. He put the bento in the fridge and hit the shower.

At 10:30 he boarded the train for the outskirts of Karakura. When they'd built the huge facility on the outskirts of town, Ichigo had been one of the first applicants for employment there. He'd hated working at the hospital in mid-town – it was old and crumbly, in desperate need of renovation, and that wasn't good for anyone involved, be it patients, their families, or the workers.

It had been while he was in his first year of pre-med school that Ichigo had found his attention more and more fixated on the nursing staff. They were doing _real_ patient care, not the doctors. The doctors would do little more than 'check-ups' … briefly glancing at the patients before scouring their charts and lab reports, then writing up a bunch of orders so that the real work could begin. Which was done by the nurses. Ichigo had found himself distracted from his studies, disgruntled with the course his life was taking, and thoroughly fascinated by the dedication these RNs showed as they cheerfully handled all the aspects of caring for the sick – no matter how dirty or gross the chore, they did it and smiled at the patient when they were done, soothing their embarrassment and fear.

So in the middle of his second year of pre-med, he'd switched his focus and entered nursing instead. He _knew_ he'd found it – his life's work, his reason for 'being here'. Nursing was still a mostly-female field, and that didn't bother Ichigo one bit. He was gay, and had known this about himself since middle school. He'd made friendships among his fellow nursing students, and with the almost-lack of males, had virtually no distractions from his goals – romantically, that is. He'd excelled at his studies, and when he'd graduated with a Bachelor's in Nursing, he was happier than he'd been in almost his entire life. Now he could get to work doing what he loved.

His father hadn't been all that pleased when Ichigo turned away from being a doctor, but even he couldn't dispute the fact that Ichigo was happy … and he was good at what he did. Ichigo had tried working at his father's clinic for a while, but it hadn't suited him. He'd always be Ichigo Kurosaki, Isshin's son, the 'failed doctor', there. So he'd moved along to Karakura General. Ichigo had tried various areas of the hospital, different wards, from the ER to the OR to ICU to Psych. Although he loved caring for patients and enjoyed his time in all these areas, none really hit him as _the one_.

So when he'd found out about the new facility, and about 3C, he'd been inspired. The new hospital was state of the art, it was huge, and it included a long-term nursing facility – one aspect of this was 3C: the Coma Care Center. When called in for his interview, he toured the place and was particularly impressed. This was no ward where the patients would languish away until they eventually died … this was a place where coma patients would be cared for with a meticulous regimen, keeping their bodies fit and healthy _until they woke up_. THAT was the mission of 3C. Every coma ends eventually – either you wake up or you die – but on 3C death was not an acceptable option. Of course it happened _-Ulquiorra-_ but the reaper didn't win on 3C without one hell of a fight.

When Ichigo walked through the doors of the department that evening, after clocking in he went straight to the nurse's desk. Orihime was there using the computer to chart, and when she looked up she gasped and rose to her feet. Suddenly Ichigo was enveloped in the soft plumpness of the girl's prodigious chest as she hugged him. "Ichigo … I'm so sorry about Mr. Schiffer," she said against his shoulder as she clutched him fiercely.

"Thanks, Orihime," Ichigo said, patting her back. She pulled away and held him by the arms, looking up at him.

"Are you doing okay?" she whispered.

"I will be," Ichigo replied, "like always."

"Yes … I know," she said. "You worked so hard to turn it around. I know. We all know. Even Dr. Aizen." She patted his arms and then let go. "They haven't filled the bed yet, you only have Mr. Hirako in that room. I don't know how long it'll take to fill it …." Her voice trailed off. They never knew. How could you? And who would want to?

"All right. Thanks, Orihime. I'm gonna go get changed now." Ichigo headed for the male locker room where he changed from street clothes to soft pale green scrubs. He slid on his special squeak-proof clogs and wrapped his stethoscope around his neck. Grabbing a shoulder bag from his locker, he headed for the lounge where he got a cup of coffee, then sat down to wait for report.

3C had a lot of staff. One thing the facility's owners had realized was that hospitals with a huge nursing staff did better … better care = better patient outcomes = happier patients and families = a great rep and _success_. Nurses were paid well and had small patient loads every shift. Ichigo had one large room he was in charge of, with three beds that could potentially be filled with coma patients. There were no CNAs on 3C, the nurses provided _all_ of the patient care. As of today, he only had one patient to care for. He would, when not taking care of that patient (the Mr. Shirako Orihime had mentioned), go around to the other rooms to help. They all did things this way. It worked.

For Ichigo, report was over quickly. With only one patient, the evening nurse quickly caught him up. "Thanks, Renji," Ichigo said, pulling his notes together. "Anything happening in the other rooms I need to know about?"

Renji feasted his eyes on orange spiky hair and warm brown eyes. Why was it he always thought about caramel apples when he looked at Ichigo? Maybe because he looked good enough to eat? Whatever, he cleared his throat and answered his friend and coworker. "Yeah, kinda … couple things goin' on in the women's section, but nothing they can't handle. Ishida's got a new patient, accident, comin' in early tomorrow morning, you might still be around and Aizen said you could maybe help get him settled."

Ichigo schooled his face to reveal none of his inner feelings about Dr. Aizen. The man was … it was hard to describe. He was just plain _false_. No other way to put it. Ichigo silently thought that the man was in it for the money, no other reason. That disgusted him, with the example of Isshin Kurosaki in front of him his whole life, pouring his youth, his resources, his _everything_ into keeping the clinic open, to help people. Aizen was the polar opposite.

He was also a fucking prick who knew about Ichigo's sexual preference and thought he should be allowed to explore that option whenever he wanted. It wasn't _quite_ sexual harassment – the man had never touched him nor spoken grossly inappropriately – but his eyes. Ichigo would look up in a meeting to find Aizen's eyes glued to his crotch, or crawling suggestively over his body, with a little smile on his lips. The doctor had asked him out, several times. Ichigo always refused. That had been taken gracefully … so far. But who knew how long that would last?

"All right," he said to Renji. "You heading straight home tonight?" Ichigo folded up his notes and put them in his scrub top pocket.

"Nah … I'm goin' to Seireitei for a little bit with Orihime and Tatsuki … you been there yet?"

Ichigo shook his head.

"It's not bad," Renji said, smirking. "Let's go this weekend. I'm thinkin' you need a little distraction … and that's definitely the place to find it!" He laughed, the warm deep sound booming a little in the lounge. Some of the other nurses looked up and smiled. Renji Abarai was big, muscular, red-haired and tattooed … although he did the professional thing and covered most of them up while at work. A skull-type scrub-cap came down low on his forehead and covered the tats that shot upward from his eyebrows … his long red hair was down his back in a braid, and he wore a long-sleeved shirt that was pushed up to the elbows to cover the tattoos on his arms. Ichigo had seen him in the locker room – impressive.

"Maybe. We'll see, okay?" Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck. The Seireitei billed itself as omnisexual … any and all types allowed … with the accent on the 'sexual'. Renji loved it – he was a true bisexual, he honestly didn't care what gender someone was, it was all about the _person_ to him. Rare. But then again, Renji was a rare friend. He'd made it clear that he'd 'do' Ichigo in a heartbeat, but didn't press the issue again after _Ichigo_ made it clear that in his opinion … friends didn't fuck. It only ruined things. He had experience in this, and didn't want it to happen again.

"Ichigo," Renji said, leaning in close and speaking softly, "ya need to get laid. All work and no play makes Ichigo dull as fuck. We'll talk. You're off Friday night, I get off at 11, and nothin' gets started there until midnight anyway. K?"

"I'll … think about it," Ichigo replied. He was still mourning, right now, and didn't want to think about partying. It was insulting to Ulqui's memory. At least, to Ichigo it was. "Anyway, gotta go. Thanks for taking care of Shinji tonight."

"My pleasure, Ichi," the redhead replied. "And heh … about Ulquiorra? – dude, we did everything we could. Sometimes, it's just fucking not enough." Death made Renji angry. It always did. Angry at himself, angry at the doctors, angry at Fate.

"Yeah. I know. Thanks, man." Ichigo got up and left the too-bright lounge. It was toned down for the evenings, but still too fucking bright as far as he was concerned. He stopped by the nurse's desk and picked up his laptop. In the room he would download any new orders and labs, etc, on Shinji Hirako. But that was secondary. First, he had to say hello.

He walked soundlessly down the left-hand hallway from the nurse' desk until he got to Room 313. He stood outside for a second or two and then pushed the door open, walking inside. The swoosh of Shinji's respirator was the first sound he heard. The lighting was dim, as of course this was the overnight shift. Ichigo put his laptop down on the room desk, then walked past Ulqu— no, past the empty bed in the middle third of the large room. Huge multi-paneled Japanese screens with painted cranes, mountains, koi, etc, separated the beds. Now Shinji was the only occupant in Ichigo's room. As he approached the bed, he saw that Shinji's eyes were open.

It was nothing new. Coma patients often opened their eyes, sometimes even seeming to follow movement … although usually it had no true direction from the brain. Ichigo leaned over Shinji, petting the blond hair back off his forehead. "Hello, Shinji," he said, in a low intimate tone. "I'm back." He stared into Shinji's eyes, filling his own with love, blinking slowly, petting the blond coma patient's face and hair. "Have you had your bath this evening? Mm, smells like it. Renji used that flowery stuff on your hair again, didn't he." Ichigo laughed softly.

He kept talking to Shinji as he did all the little things he did at the beginning of his shift. Turning on some light music, perhaps lighting a scented candle, setting up the passive-motion machines to work Shinji's legs. It was a constant battle, keeping coma patient's limbs from atrophy and contracture. Ichigo took it very seriously. Shinji had to be ready, for when he woke up. That was the only way Ichigo could look at it.

He set up Shinji's parenteral nutrition (liquid feeding through the PEG tube that went directly through his abdomen into his stomach), emptying his bladder and rectal bags, doing his finger and toenails, cleaning his teeth and mouth, caring for his tracheostomy, turning him every hour. Ichigo was meticulous _and_ caring … and that's why he was the best at what he did. Every once in a while he checked with the other nurses and helped turn their patients, do their ROM exercises, things like that.

Roughly four hours into the shift, Ichigo was working Shinji's arms through some range-of-motion exercises. He said, "Shinji … I don't know how much you're aware of … but Ulquiorra is gone. He – he died three days ago. I miss him, and I know you will too. We were all together here for a long time, weren't we." He talked about Ulquiorra to Shinji, and this was as cathartic as putting Ulqui's obituary in the album had been. Shinji's eyes were closed now, but Ichigo didn't care. He'd talk anyway, sharing his day with this man that he loved.

At lunch break, Ichigo ate his bento up on the roof, staring at the night lights of Karakura, then had two cigarettes. (Okay, he knew, especially as a nurse! that he shouldn't smoke. But other than the occasional drink or two or three, it was his only real vice.) So quiet out here on the outskirts of town. That's what was also best about the night – the day time bustle had no place here. He was alone up here, too, most of the others preferring to eat their lunches in the lounge. That was okay.

When it was just about time for Mid shift to be over, Ichigo finished up by giving Shinji a massage, carefully smoothing the oil-free lotion into his muscles, talking to him as he worked. "Shinji," he said, working the smaller mans' pectorals, watching as his nipples tightened and grew, "You're amazing." The human _body_ was amazing. Coma patients could get erections, too … Ichigo had seen it many many times. Ulquiorra was infamous for it – he'd get it up with the slightest touch below the waist. Ichigo had privately thought that Ulqui must have been gay, although his family had never said anything.

Time to finish charting and then head for report. Ichigo leaned over Shinji for the last time, this shift. He brushed the blond hair back from his face again after turning him back to lay supine. He kissed the man's cheek. Stimulus. Waking from a coma was not just about healing brain injury, it was also about _stimulus_. Ichigo firmly believed this. Another kiss on the other cheek. "Shinji," he said, "I love you." His eyes were still closed. No matter. "I love you."

XXX

After reporting off to Chado, the day shift nurse for room 313, Ichigo checked with Ishida and helped get his new patient settled. The man had fallen from a bridge during construction and hadn't awakened since. It had been 3 months since the accident with no end to his coma in sight, so here he was. He was tall – a special bed had had to be brought in – and had beautiful long black hair. Uryuu was going to cut it but Ichigo talked him out of it, reminding him that the patient – Nnoitra Jiruga – could wake up tomorrow, and if his hair was gone, he would be _pissed_. Uryuu had reluctantly agreed, and had let Ichigo braid it.

Now, with the new patient settled, Ichigo headed for the locker room. It wasn't empty. A tall black-haired man, half-undressed, stood in front of his locker, almost directly across from Ichigo's. Ichigo stopped in his tracks, recovered quickly, and pulled his eyes away from the pale expanse of muscular chest. "Dr. Kuchiki," he said by way of a greeting.

"Kurosaki," the man murmured, his smooth voice sliding into Ichigo's ears like honey.

Ichigo opened his locker, then caught sight of the doctor's beautiful back in the mirror that hung inside the locker door. God. Ichigo swallowed hard. He was the best doctor they had, in Ichigo's opinion, and his total package had held top spot in Ichigo's spank bank ever since … well … one memorable evening, Dr. Kuchiki had come out of the shower while Ichigo had been seated on the bench that ran between the lockers. He'd been wearing nothing but a towel and had sidled past Ichigo, turning sideways to get past, and his groin had been right in front of Ichigo's eyes. He hadn't been able to pull his eyes away until a throat had been cleared somewhere above his head.

Ichigo had raised his eyes – not knowing that his pupils were dilated with desire – and looked up into a wry half-smile. "Kurosaki," Byakuya Kuchiki had said, "working hard?"

"Not too bad," Ichigo had growled unintentionally. Then his face flamed red and he'd fled as quickly as he could.

Now, Ichigo shamelessly watched in the mirror as Byakuya Kuchiki put on deodorant and pulled his long black hair into a low ponytail. Pulling off his scrub top, Ichigo reached into his locker for his t-shirt and upon straightening, returned his gaze to the mirror. Just in time to catch the good doctor staring at _his_ back. Ichigo froze. He could almost _feel_ those gorgeous silver-gray eyes on his skin. What should he do? He knew what he wanted to do - turn around and fall to his knees and lick the fly of those pricey black slacks.

Nothing. He should do nothing. Doctor Kuchiki was married, everyone knew that, and however unhappy it was rumored to be, Ichigo wouldn't do something like that. Or, at least, he wouldn't _start_ it. _I'm a closet slut,_ he thought_. I'd let that man fuck me_ in front of _his wife if he wanted it_. Such _a slut_. Instead of doing the falling to his knees thing, Ichigo slipped his t-shirt over his head and changed back into his jeans. By that time Dr. Kuchiki was putting on his tie. Ichigo bit his lip, chased thoughts of _tying Byakuya's wrists together with that tie_ out of his head, muttered goodbye, and left.

XXX

Shit. When he returned to his apartment, Shuuhei was there, waiting, sitting on the floor outside his door. When Ichigo walked up, smiling diplomatically, the younger man scrambled to his feet. "I-Ichigo," he breathed, a wide grin on his face.

"Hello, Shu," Ichigo said, getting out his keys. "What's up?"

"Been a while since I saw ya," the tattooed man replied from Ichigo's elbow. "Thought I'd check in."

"Don't have work today?" Ichigo asked, opening the door and sighing silently as Shuuhei darted inside.

"In a couple hours," Shu answered. "Here … I brought cake." He grinned as Ichigo eyed the bag hungrily. All Ichigo's friends knew he was susceptible to cake. Okay, so smoking wasn't his _only_ vice.

"All right," Ichigo said, closing the door and locking it, then hitting the rheostat on the wall that would bring the lights up a bit. "I'll make coffee."

"Should you drink it now? It won't keep you awake?" Shu said airily, looking in cupboards for plates.

_Like you don't remember_, Ichigo thought. "Nope," he said, as he readied the coffee maker. They talked about Shuuhei's work as a graphic artist until the coffee was done, then settled down on the couch with plates of cake and cups of coffee. Not a bad supper.

When they were finished, Ichigo picked up the TV remote, thinking to turn the damn thing on for Shuuhei, but the black-haired man put a hand over his. "I … didn't come here to watch TV with you, Strawberry," he said, smiling, his strangely-small irises almost eaten up entirely by his pupils.

Ichigo sighed again. _Strawberry_. God, he hated that shit. A "fruit". Ha. Ha. "Shu …"

"Don't love me anymore?" Shuuhei asked, the smile dropping off his face, sadness creeping into his eyes.

Shuuhei Hisagi. Former coma patient of room 313 on 3C. Former patient of Ichigo's, one of the success stories. His facial tattoos covered some extensive facial scaring – the car accident that had caused his coma had almost torn the left side of his face off. He was lucky to have the sight in that eye – actually, to have an eye there at all.

Ichigo had cared for him. And of course, he had loved him. When he woke up, Shuuhei remembered. His eyes had opened, on that memorable day, and Ichigo had looked lovingly down into his gray-violet eyes, saying again, "I love you." And Shu had croaked, "N-not. G-gay."

Shuuhei remembered. Ichigo's face had flamed with joy … he'd been laughing, crying, he'd grabbed Shuuhei up in a tight, incredibly tight hug … Shu was back! He'd kissed him, while his tears had fallen onto his face. And when it became apparent that Shu was awake for good, he'd been moved out of 3C, and he'd thought he'd never see Ichigo again. But those words haunted him. He'd heard them over and over as he was inching toward wakefulness … "I love you," repeated so fervently. The hands that had touched him with such care.

Ichigo turned toward him, putting a hand on his knee. "Yes, of course I still love you, Shu. I always will, I told you that. But remember? – you're not gay."

Shuuhei blushed again, looking away for a moment until his eyes were dragged back helplessly. "I … I know. But … Ichi … I want it. Please. Please? _Please_." He leaned forward, knowing that Ichigo could smell him now, knowing it was an unfair tactic, but unable to control his urges. He would use any weapon he had.

Ichigo inhaled his former patient's scent, eyes closing in memory. "Shuuhei," he breathed, leaning forward. He laid his head on Shuuhei's shoulder, breathing him in with his face tucked into Shu's neck. Ichigo's tongue came out and licked softly, tasting him, and Shuuhei gasped as a shudder made his whole body tremble.

Ichigo Kurosaki got down on his knees on his living room floor and unbuttoned Shuuhei's jeans as he looked into one of his beloveds' eyes. He pulled down the zipper as Shu's breathing hitched, then reached in and pulled out his dripping hard cock. "Shu," Ichigo breathed as he leaned in close to it, "you're already ready."

"Yess," Shuuhei gasped.

_Ulqui_, Ichigo thought with a spike of pain in his heart, _watch me. If you had awakened instead of dying, I would have done this for you. I'd've done it over and over, until you were breathless and boneless in my arms. All of you – watch me_.

He licked the swollen head of Shu's dick, using his tongue to capture all the pre-seminal fluid from the slit. He kissed it, over and over, licking, worshipping it, putting all his love into it. He took the head into his mouth, sucking gently, slathering it with his tongue. When Shu was shaking and had his fingers tangled in Ichigo's orange spiky hair, Ichigo slowly slid Shu's cock into his mouth, taking it all in as he sucked and licked at it, until his nose was buried in fragrant black pubic hair. Ichigo hummed around it, swallowed over and over, moved so that it would rub against his palate, until Shu cried out for more.

Ichigo started up a sensuous rhythm, sliding his mouth up and down on his former patient's throbbing penis, taking his cues from Shu for speed and depth. Shu's hands guided him, pushing and pulling his hair. His hips guided him, too, and when they began thrusting his cock into Ichigo's mouth, he relaxed and let the man fuck his throat, humming and sucking when he could, one hand caressing and pulling the younger man's balls.

Shuuhei was in ecstasy … Ichigo gave the best head he had ever had. It was like a drug … he couldn't go without it for long. This time it had been almost three months, but this morning he had awakened with that longing and it wouldn't go away. He looked down at Ichi's head, then half-fell to the side to watch him work his magic, those lips! … aw, gods, he couldn't hold it anymore! "Ichi! It's good, so _good_! I – I'm gonna come!"

Ichigo hummed in reply, came off the top of Shu's dick, and said hoarsely, "Shu … give it to me." Then he attacked Shu's cock, mercilessly, sucking licking stroking humming swallowing – and Shu was GONE. He shouted out his release, gripping Ichi's hair, grinding his cock into that _mouth_, keeping his eyes open because he had to _see_, he had to watch as Ichigo drank it all down. He gulped it, hungrily, eyes closed, humming like it was his beloved _cake_, for Christ's sake. Shu shuddered through it all, his muscles spasming, pleasure so intense he thought he'd pass out, GOD it was _amazing_, every fucking time. Every fucking time.

XXX

Ichigo kissed Shuuhei one last time, smiled at him, and closed the door behind him as he left, locking it carefully. He crossed the kitchen and went back to the couch, flinging himself upon it. He didn't care what anyone else thought about what he did. Shuuhei was alive, he was alive partly because of Ichigo's loving care, and he couldn't refuse making one of his beloveds _feel alive_, in the best way. Shu had come for him three times. He still had the taste of Shuuhei's essence in his mouth. He swallowed, knowing that he had a small piece of Shu inside him now, becoming one with Ichigo's body. It was enough.

Time for bed. The day was over. _Ulqui,_ he thought. _David, Ramon, Yuki, Sebastian, Leif, Timothy, Hayato, Keigo, and Kira. My beloveds. Good night._

**End Chapter One**

**Hope you all liked it. More to come soon! **

**Ahvienda**


	2. Chapter 2 Endings and Beginnings

**Chapter 2 – Endings and Beginnings**

**Continuing! Rated M for *gasp* adult stuff.**

**I most certainly do not own Bleach or any of its characters. Too bad!**

On Tuesday, Ichigo had to return to the hospital at 1600 hours (4 pm) for a meeting. It was for Ulquiorra Schiffer's final report – the last run-down that would cover all the treatments Ulqui had received, all of it, everything. They'd go over it with a fine-toothed comb and, based on the autopsy findings, see if there was anything that could have been done differently for the man. It wasn't to try to pin blame on anyone for Ulqui's death. On 3C, everything was a learning experience, even death. Ichigo wouldn't miss these meetings for the world. It was his last chance to advocate for one of his charges. He took it very seriously.

The participants slowly filtered into the conference room. A coffee service stood on a table near the doors, and Ichigo had already re-filled his travel mug. Three large flat-screen monitors had been lowered out of the ceiling near the front of the room, and the hospital's home page was displayed on each one. Once Renji arrived (his relief had been delayed), they were ready to go.

Dr. Aizen, head of the department that oversaw 3C, was in charge of the meeting. Dr. Kuchiki, Chado, Ichigo, Renji, and Orihime (as the 3C charge nurse) all attended, along with representatives of the lab, radiology, pathology, surgery (since Ulqui had had to have two procedures during his stay, one in the last weeks before his death), and dietary. Secondary agencies had sent in reports, as well, it not being completely necessary for them to send in a representative. It had all been gone over and the final report had been prepared. Dr. Aizen got up and started, using the first monitor to bring up a report about Ulqui's admittance.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer, aged 21 upon arrival at Karakura General hospital per ambulance five years ago. Mr. Schiffer had attempted suicide, had a gunshot wound to the head, and was not conscious. As far as can be ascertained, Mr. Schiffer never regained consciousness from admittance til the time of his death in the ICU four days ago." The OR picked it up here, using the second flat-screen to bring up the operative report, citing the results of the successful surgery to remove the bullet fragments from his brain. Ulqui's CAT scans and MRIs were displayed, highlighting the damage the bullet had done to the delicate tissues. Ichigo gritted his teeth. These were all the events that had occurred prior to Ulqui's arrival on 3C, before he was transferred in from Karakura General.

It all wound down to the last month of Ulqui's life. Chado had been the first to note the symptoms of increased intra-cranial pressure and Ichigo had been the one to discover that Ulqui's facial features had subtly altered –rapidly the diagnosis of stroke had been made by Dr. Kuchiki. It was all downhill from there. Finally Ulqui had been returned to the OR for burr holes – openings drilled through his skull in order to relieve the building pressure from blood hemorrhaging into the space. Then his family had refused to allow the procedure that could possibly have stopped the bleeding. They said the odds weren't good enough. They said he had been through enough.

Death had been attributed to that stroke and its subsequent effects on Ulqui's brain.

Diagnoses, treatments, pharmaceutical records, nursing … it was all gone over again, trying to spot any holes in the way care was given. Near the end of the meeting, Ichigo had spoken up. The personnel from the lab, dietary, and pathology had already left. "I do have one last thing to say," he said quietly. Aizen's glasses flashed in the light from the flat-screens. "I want to reiterate my misgivings about the withholding of pain medication from Mr. Schiffer following his burr hole procedure and the events following it." He'd worked out the politically correct way of saying that he thought not giving Ulqui pain meds was barbaric and stupid, and thought it came off pretty good.

Dr. Aizen spoke softly but confidently. "Kurosaki-san, you know as well as I do that Mr. Schiffer regularly rated a 5 or below on the Glasgow Coma Scale. He made no measurable response to painful stimuli. Narcotic administration would have depressed his respiratory and digestive systems and probably would have hastened his eventual demise."

"Respectfully, sir, I disagree," Ichigo said softly. "Mr. Schiffer _could not_ respond to painful stimuli. Not overtly, not in any way that could be measured. But who is to say that he was not locked inside his body somewhere … sc-screaming." _Fuck. Don't stutter again, idiot!_ He cleared his throat. "Judicious application of pain meds with conscientious monitoring would not have worsened his condition, and may have helped with the reduction of pressure intra-cranially as it lessened the stress that pain causes in the body."

Aizen half-smirked, apparently getting ready to show the little nurse how smart the big bad doctor was, when a soft voice cut into the conversation. "I agree," Byakuya Kuchiki said. Everyone looked at him. "We still know far too little about coma … but we have numerous reports of recovered coma patients who have indicated that they were 'conscious' for extended periods, despite the lack of corresponding external signs of consciousness, especially as they moved toward waking resolution. These reports tend to bear out what Kurosaki-san is saying."

Ichigo half fell in love with Byakuya Kuchiki in that moment. Dr. Aizen looked from one to the other of them, tapping his finger against his lips, then nodding when Orihime and Renji added their agreement to Ichigo's argument. "I'd need to see some case studies, some out-of-facility research …"

"Right here, sir," Ichigo said, standing up to hand him a folder. He'd known this was coming.

Aizen looked the enclosed sheets over rapidly, flipping through them. He thought about it, staring at the monitors. Then he looked at Ichigo and Dr. Kuchiki. "Case-by-case basis, physician-approved only, no standing orders acceptable."

That was Aizen's way of approving, tentatively. Ichigo thanked him … the meeting broke up soon after that. As the staff was leaving the conference room, he approached Kuchiki-san. Ichigo bowed slightly, saying, "Thank you, Kuchiki-sensei." Byakuya only nodded, his signature one-sided quirk of the lips signifying his version of a smile.

"You made a good argument, Kurosaki," the tall man said. "It was easy to agree with you."

Jesus Christ the man smelled good. And the way he said 'Kurosaki' was simply criminal. Ichigo inhaled him, covertly he thought, and said, "Well … maybe. But thank you just the same." It had kept Ichigo up nights after caring for Ulqui's burr holes, thinking how much they must _hurt_, with nothing being done medicinally for pain. He couldn't rid himself of the idea that inside his head, trapped by his unmoving body, Ulqui was tortured and … like he'd said in the meeting … screaming.

_There, Ulqui_, he thought. _Now what happened to you won't happen to anyone else. Not if I can help it._

XXX

_**Two years ago ...**_

_Ichigo came off-shift in the early morning hours, sliding on his sunglasses and pulling up the hood on his sweat jacket. It was drizzling lightly … the temperature was dropping rapidly and someone had even mentioned _snow_ in the break-room overnight. He hurried from the hospital's employee entrance, walking rapidly toward the train station. It was crowded when he arrived, but it was mostly people arriving at the station, heading _to_ work … not leaving for home like Ichigo._

_Funny how the cooler weather, the light rainfall combined to invigorate him. He was smiling a bit when he walked down the ramp toward the platform where he'd wait for the 7:22 to South 2__nd__ Station in Karakura. Ichigo lived in a mostly-residential area, except as you got further out toward the edges of the city. It was fairly clean, quiet, and had good access to the river. Which, unless it was around _that_ time of the year, Ichigo liked._

_The 7:22 made several stops in between the northern edge of town, where Ichigo worked, and the South 2__nd__ Station. It was on one of these stops that Ichigo was overcome by memory. He inhaled again, turning to look around at the people nearby. There. A young man, tall, with a black hoodie, black jeans, and boots. Ichigo tried to edge closer but they stopped in mid-town and the guy was getting off. Ichigo couldn't help it … he followed him. He just needed to see his face, his eyes._

_Smell is the human sense linked most closely to memory._

_He put out a hand, onto the young guy's arm, and said, "Excuse me …" and then the boy, really, turned, surprised, looking over his shoulder, and Ichigo's eyes caught his. He threw his arms around the startled youth and grabbed him up in a hug. "Shu!" Ichigo yelled, laughing, squeezing him tightly. He practically lifted him off his feet._

_Shuuhei, after a moment's total shock, caught a glimpse of orange spiky hair as Ichigo's hood fell back and in that second he realized, it's _him_! His arms came up and locked around Ichigo, returning the hug ten-fold. "Kurosaki-san!" _

_Ichigo laughed, his head thrown back. Awesome! He hadn't seen Shu in what seemed like _ages_, ever since the night before he'd been moved out of 3C. Relaxing his hold as Shu relaxed his, Ichigo held onto Shu's biceps as he looked him over. "Ya look great!"_

_Shuuhei actually found himself growing warm under the other male's perusal. "Thanks," he said, brushing his hood back. He looked down rather shyly as Ichigo looked at his face and hair._

"_Number one … the hair is totally _you_," Ichigo said. "And the tats … I … wow. 69, huh?" He chuckled. "You look fantastic." He couldn't stop grinning. Facial tattoos weren't for everyone – and Shu had damned good reasons for his – but for Shu they just _worked_. He looked up into the boy-man's face and squeezed his arms. "It's really _really_ great to see you, Shu." His sincerity thrummed in his voice. _

"_You, too," Shu said, not taking his eyes from Ichigo's face. _

"_C'mere," Ichigo said, and hugged Shu again. His scent washed over Ichigo and he remembered, caring for a teenaged Shu through his coma … the day he'd awakened … and not seeing him since. He inhaled Shu's smell, reinforcing his memory of it, and only too late realized that not only was he hugging him for far too long, but he had a cheerful hard-on that was pressing against Shu's thigh. Whoops. He loosened his hold on Shu and backed off, to find a stiff blushing Shuuhei staring down at him, wide-eyed._

_Ichigo had chuckled. _N-not. G-gay_. "Everything going okay? Yeah? Good." _

_Shu had been stricken. Memory flooded his brain, he'd thought about Ichigo so many times … and suddenly here he was. _

"_Well, listen, I gotta go," Ichigo had said. "Here's my number … give yer old nurse a call sometime, okay? Fucking fantastic to see you!"_

_It had taken two weeks for Shu to work up the courage to call Ichigo. He'd been on his mind constantly, and now he had his number, he wanted to see the orange-haired man again, sit down and talk with him. So he called and they arranged to meet at a smallish bar in a quieter section of town, not really all that far from Ichigo's apartment, Kisuke's by name. Ichigo got there first, and was already half-done with a beer when Shuuhei showed up, tall and lean in black jeans and a gray t-shirt. Ichigo wasn't going to hug him, but Shu shyly initiated it, so he returned it whole-heartedly._

_They'd sat and talked and drank for hours, catching up and reliving old memories. Ichigo was finding himself a little affected by Shu's tall lean maleness and was reminding himself that Shu was not gay … but damn he sure was cute. Whatever, it was great to see him and to see that he was doing so well._

_At 3 a.m. Shu was hammered. Unsure where he even was, Ichigo couldn't let him go home alone. So instead Ichigo took him back to his (Ichigo's) apartment, and helped him up the stairs and inside, then onto the couch. "Here … pillow, blanket … need anything to eat? A sandwich? How about a glass of water and some Advil, that way you won't …." He stopped speaking. From here it looked like Shu was … crying?_

"_Shu?"_

"_Y-yeah … water sounds great, man," Shuuhei slurred slightly, ducking his head._

_Ichigo sat down next to Shu, looking at him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Heh … you okay?"_

"_You …" Shuuhei stole a glance at Ichigo, "You're still tryin' ta take care o' me," he said, quietly._

_Ichigo chuckled and did the lean-bump thing with their shoulders. "Can't help it. 'Cause you know I … I mean, um …" Shit. Don't say it. The time for saying that is past._

"'_Cause you loved me," Shu said, leaning over onto him, head on Ichigo's shoulder._

_Ichigo froze. "Love," he corrected, softly._

"_Huh?"_

"_You used past tense."_

"_B-but …"_

_Ichigo was silent. Instead he patted Shu's head, where it lay on Ichigo's shoulder. Shu raised it and looked at him, and Ichigo reached up and traced over some of his tattoos with one finger, then laid his hand on Shu's cheek._

"_N-no-one ever touches my face," Shu said, face crumpling for just a second. He looked into Ichigo's eyes and saw … remembered … _saw_ the emotion shining there._

"_I love your face," Ichigo said, smiling. "And I really like the tats," he added, wiggling his eyebrows, trying to lighten up the mood a bit._

_The tactic failed. Shuuhei looked into Ichigo's eyes and croaked, "Ichigo," – and Ichi saw it. Shuuhei needed someone to like him, to take care of him, to care what happened to him, to touch his face, to share his memories, to _want _him, to love him. Shu needed … Ichigo. _

_He leaned in and murmured, "Shu," and stroked his fingertips down the tattooed side of that handsome face. Shu's breath came out in a shuddering sigh. Ichigo kept petting his face and hair as he pulled him into a hug. He breathed in Shu's scent, still so familiar after so long apart. "You're amazing," he said. _

"_I-Ichigo," Shu whispered, pulling away a bit to look down at the shorter man. He ran his fingers through that spiky hair, feeling how soft it was … his breath puffing out onto Ichigo's face. _

_He breathed it in … and suddenly Shu was kissing his cheek, softly, tentatively, like he was expecting to be pushed away or slapped at any second. Instead, Ichigo turned his head and kissed Shu's lips, just as softly. "I love you, Shu," he said. "Still." He kissed the scars, hidden under the tattoos._

"Ichigo_," moaned, filled with need. _

_The redhead glanced down and saw that Shuuhei's jeans were straining to contain a raging hard-on. He lightly drew his fingertips across it, then up and down it, scratching lightly. "Shu?" he whispered. "Let me take care of you."_

"_Ahh," Shu moaned, straightening and straining against Ichigo's hand._

_Shuuhei was not gay … but a blow job was not a strictly gay thing. So Ichigo went down on the other man, sucking him off thoroughly until he came hard, and his cum was thick and copious. "Mmm," Ichigo hummed around Shu's cock, drinking it, every last bit. _

_Shu was one massive blush, shuddering and shivering with aftershocks, with embarrassment. "S-sorry … it's been a l-long time," he apologized, agonized, as Ichigo kissed his dick. "N-nobody wants—" His voice broke, stopped, as Ichigo licked his cock from base to tip, _hard_._

"_Well … let's make sure you can't say that again," Ichigo said, and bent his head to Shuuhei's already reawakening erection. He sucked him off again, right then, with Shu twitching and shouting through it, hands fisted in Ichigo's hair._

_Two hours later Ichigo woke Shu up by starting while he was still asleep, licking and kissing and sucking. "You're fucking gorgeous," he said to the younger man, caressing his balls. "Beautiful. I couldn't resist your sleeping face." Shu trembled, gasping, as Ichigo had him kneel on the floor while the redhead got on all fours in front of him. Shu controlled the movement this time, thrusting his hips as he fucked Ichi's mouth, one hand in Ichigo's hair, the other under his chin. _

"_Yeah …" Shuuhei gritted out. "Oh yeah … good … mm, that's good …."_

_Ichigo's hand kept straying to his own erection, and Shu said, his confidence in his sexiness re-emerging as he realized Ichigo was hard because of _him_, "D-Do it! Stroke it off, Ichi." So he did. Timed it almost perfectly, he thought, since they came at almost the exact same time._

"_Shu …" Ichigo muttered, "yer _so_ hot," as they laid, panting, on Ichigo's couch. _

_Shuuhei grinned. "Yeah?" he asked, still somewhat breathless._

"_Ohh yeah."_

_In the afternoon, when Ichigo awoke, Shuuhei was already gone, of course. But he'd left a note in the kitchen. _"Ichigo … I wish I was gay. I really do. See you soon? – Shuuhei"_ along with his cell number. Ichigo had smiled and made coffee. _

XXX

_**Back to present day …**_

Shinji's family was in his room when Ichigo came in for his shift on Thursday night at 11. This was very odd, and unlike them, rarely were there visitors on Ichigo's shift. He frowned when he saw them but forcefully erased it when Shinji's mother saw him and came over. "Kurosaki-san, it is good to see you again," the small blonde woman said quietly. Chado had told him she always spoke as though Shinji was merely asleep and she was afraid to wake him up.

"Mrs. Hirako," Ichigo bowed, "the pleasure is mine." It had been over a year since they'd visited on Ichigo's shift, and that had been early morning, not late at night like this.

"We … we are here to begin … to make a decision, Kurosaki-san," she whispered.

Ichigo's stomach clenched. He kept his face calm and diplomatic. "Yes, ma'am?" No. Please don't say it. Please.

"We … are considering removing our son from the respirator," she said, voice cracking with sadness.

Ichigo was stricken with silence. He couldn't speak. His eyes went from Shinji to his mother and back again.

"Kurosaki-san … do you think that Shinji is happy? You did not know him before he came here, he was so energetic, so filled with life, he was like a force of nature, with his brilliant spirit and his …" she smiled sadly, "… his constant dancing and singing. Although he could not sing. Not at all, really." Her face was unutterably sad.

"I … I understand," Ichigo said, while inside he was raging. _No! I don't understand! He's going to wake up! _

"Please do not agitate yourself, Kurosaki-kun," Shinji's _observant_ mother said, "we are only now beginning to speak of it. The family must discuss it. And then we must confer with Dr. Kuchiki. The actual decision is … a long way off." She uncharacteristically reached out and touched Ichigo's hand. "Thank you, Kurosaki-san, for all you do for my son. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart." She bowed, very low, held it, and then rejoined her husband.

Ichigo kept himself busy until they left. He was nervy, anxious, hopped up … that was no way to be when he approached Shinji. So he tried to calm himself while doing all his little chores, reminding himself that life on a respirator is not life. It's _maintenance_.

He approached Shinji, looking down at his face, the silky blond hair. Would Shinji be able to breathe on his own? It wasn't likely. Not after all this time. Ichigo laid his hand on Shinji's cheek. "Shinji … " He didn't know what to say. So instead, he just repeated the man's name. "Shinji."

XXX

He was slumped on the bench between the rows of lockers, head in his hands, when someone suddenly sat down next to him. "Kurosaki … problem?" Aizen. Mother fucker, how had he let that creepy fuck sneak up behind him? Dammit.

"Ah, nothing I can't handle, Aizen-sensei," Ichigo mumbled, straightening up, looking away.

"Sure you don't want to talk about it? Maybe I can help. We could … go for breakfast? Or a drink later?" Aizen smiled, that sweet, friendly, false smile. His eyes were glued to Ichigo's mouth. Fucker.

The drink he could refuse without guilt or worry … the offer of breakfast, not so much. Bosses and workers had breakfast together all the time. Shit. "Breakfast actually sounds pretty good," Ichigo reluctantly admitted.

"Great … we can hit the cafeteria … or you could come to my place, I make a mean eggs benedict," again with that smile.

"I'll have to pass on the eggs benedict today, sir," Ichigo said, trying to sound like "oh, darn." But there was no fucking way he was going to Aizen's house alone! "The cafeteria is good enough for me."

So off they went. 0730 in a hospital cafeteria is a very busy time. Every-fucking-body saw Ichigo there with Aizen. He almost wished he'd gone to the man's house, at least then it wouldn't have been so damn public. Aizen was the perfect gentleman, though, amusing and entertaining, listening to Ichigo when he told him about Shinji's family and the upcoming decision, offering excellent medical advice, offering more, personally, if Ichigo needed it. "I'm here, Ichigo-kun, I mean it. I know you are aware that I would like to see you outside the professional arena …"

Huh? Jesus. What a way to put it! And ugh, hearing that man call him 'Ichigo-kun'. He didn't want to be here with this man, he wanted to go home and sleep. Then get up and go out with Renji. He couldn't think about Shinji anymore right now, especially since this was something over which he'd have no. Control. Whatsoever. Only his family could make the decision to let Shinji go. Perhaps Ichigo could give an opinion, but it wouldn't necessarily count. It was maddening. Frustrating. And he was on the verge of breaking over it.

"Well … I guess I'll see you next week, Aizen-sensei," Ichigo said, having been forced to walk out with the doctor.

"Yes. Unless … you change your mind. I am … a very attentive date, Ichigo-kun, and you must be aware that I find you attractive." Well. Apparently Aizen felt freer to speak his mind in the parking lot!

"I …" Ichigo began.

"Gentlemen," a smooth voice interrupted. Byakuya Kuchiki walked up, looking along the sidewalk for a cab? His driver? Whatever, Ichigo was glad to see him.

Aizen was, apparently, not. He frowned. "Kuchiki."

"Doctor Aizen," Byakuya said calmly, then he looked down at Ichigo. "Kurosaki."

_Gawd_.

He finally got away from Dr. Aizen at about 9 a.m. By then Ichigo was tired, doubly ready for bed, triply ready to just have his consciousness shut off _-Shinji-_ for a while. _Please, although I love him, please don't let Shu be there again_, he thought. Gotta get some sleep!

Shu wasn't there, but there was a message on his answering machine from Orihime.

"Hello, Kurosaki-kun … would you be able to come in early on Sunday night? Perhaps 1030 hours or so? We are receiving a transfer and this gentleman will be assigned to your room. Thank you. Call me if you need to! Bye!"

She left another message immediately following this one.

"Oh, sorry, it's me again … Orihime, I mean … well … will we be seeing you tonight at Seireitei? I hope so! I know you will have a lot of fun! Well, anyway, bye again!"

A message from Renji: "Heyyy, Strawberry! I know how much ya like that." Evil snicker. "ANYhow … meet us at Seireitei tonight at about midnight, yeah? I know that's right up your alley, with your schedule." Pause. "Seriously, Ichigo? Come out tonight. Really. See ya there."

The last message was the kicker. "Ichigo … hello, it's me, Starrk. I'll be in town next week. I want to see you again. I'll call you when I get in." Was that a yawn? Ichigo smiled. "All right, talk to you then."

Starrk Coyote. Son of a bitch. When it rains, it pours.

XXX

**This seemed like a natural ending place. Hope you liked it and thanks for reading! XD**

**More soon.**

**Ahvienda**


	3. Chapter 3 Forget About It

**Chapter 3 – Forget About It**

**Yeah-yeah-yaoi … cursing … **

**To continue ….**

Friday

After Ichigo got home, he practically collapsed into his bed and was asleep within moments after bidding his beloveds good night. Generally he couldn't fall asleep that fast unless he was post-orgasm, but with the stresses he had endured this week, it wasn't really all that surprising. He needed it mentally, too - sleep was a welcome relief from consciousness. He did not dream, or if he did, he didn't remember anything.

He woke up to find the alarm clock glowing 7:32 p.m. Wow. How long had it been since he'd slept in like _that_? Freakin' ages. He lay in bed for a while, enjoying the lethargy, stretching and sighing. Instead of letting his worries crowd back into his head, he thought about going to Seireitei with Renji and the others from work. He sighed. Seireitei had been open for two months and Ichigo had not once gone there with his friends. Whether he was mourning or not, he had to reconcile himself to the idea and do it, if just to keep the peace with Renji. Already the redhead was probably suspecting Ichigo of depression … Renji was just good about things like that, intuitive, sharp.

Ulquiorra … when he'd been brought in after trying to kill himself, his blood alcohol level had tested out at 0.482%. That had given Ichigo a sour taste in his mouth for drinking to excess, and he hadn't really tied one on in ages. He knew for a fact that Ulquiorra's suicide attempt couldn't be attributed to an alcoholic haze: he'd just been through a very difficult break-up and had been sanctioned at work for calling off and, apparently, slacking off. It wasn't the alcohol that drove him to want to die, it was a broken heart, a broken life. The alcohol had just provided enough liquid courage for Ulqui to get the gun and do what he did. _Ulqui_ ….

_I know you guys would all be pissed at me for feeling sorry for myself and backing away from life_, he thought. So, I'll go out tonight. And I'll try to have fun.

At precisely midnight, Ichigo was in line to get into Seireitei. Wow. Apparently the place was continuing to be extremely popular. The music pulsed out from the doors every time they opened, rousing dance numbers that got your blood going. He felt kinda weird being by himself, but he knew he'd meet up with the others inside, so it was all good. Ichigo was wearing a pair of low-slung black skinny jeans with a black studded belt, a tight white t-shirt that showed Twilight's Edward and Jacob kissing – the logo read, "Screw Bella". Over that he had on a black hoodie, with black and white Nike hi-tops on his feet. He felt surprisingly good.

After he got inside, Ichigo headed straight for the nearest bar and got a beer. It wasn't long before a tall red-head approached him, grinning from ear to ear. Renji. And god _damn_, he looked good. His hair was down, in all its vibrant crimson glory. He was wearing a pair of beat-up blue jeans with numerous strategically-placed holes and a pale gray hoodie, unzipped, sleeves pushed up his arms. On his feet he wore white Van's. Under that hoodie he wore nothing … his abdominal and chest tattoos on alluring display. Half-wondering if he could reneg on his decision to not have sex with his friend, Ichigo grinned back at him. "Jesus," he shouted over the music, "what, do you have me on GPS or something? Thought it'd take a while to run into you in this madhouse!"

"After all this time, ya _still_ don't know that there's no-one else in the fuckin' country with hair like yers? It's like a beacon!" Renji grinned again and slung an arm around Ichigo's shoulders, beginning to steer him through the crowd. "Damn I'm glad ya came out tonight," he said, leaning close to speak into Ichigo's ear. "Thought I was going ta havta drag you outta your cave or somethin', buddy." He squeezed his friend's shoulders.

A loud screech over the sound of pounding bass … and they'd found Orihime and Tatsuki. The actual screech had come from Tatsuki … Orihime was generally too much of a lady to do something like that. "Ichigoooo!" the tiny woman yelled, and practically tackled him.

"Tots," he said, using his old pet name for her, "good to see ya," he grinned. "How's everything at school?"

"Fucking kids are such little assholes!" she yelled, rolling her eyes. "Why they aren't talented, brilliant, perfect angels like _we_ were, I'll never know." She grinned, her eyes sparkling in her little pixie face.

Ichigo laughed. "Uh-_huh_," he said, exchanging a look with Renji. "Hi, Orihime," he said, looking at the auburn-haired girl next to Tatsuki. "Looking good, little sister." He smiled down at her. She smiled back, lifting a mimosa in a champagne glass, clinking it with his beer. She did look good, in a little white pleated skirt, platform sandals, and a hi-necked pale green and white halter top. Tatsuki was looking like anything _but_ a school teacher in a pair of dark gray low-riding yoga pants that could have been sprayed on, with a matching hoodie-top, and platform sneakers. It suited her, perfectly.

"C'mon, we got a table over here … some of the others from work showed up. And, uh … try not to act too surprised," Renji said, eyes twinkling.

Oh, shit. What now?

XXX

He was so fucking pissed he just wanted to rip somebody's arms off. Or fuck them into the ground. Or both, and he didn't much care which one happened first.

Life was one big shithole right now, and he didn't give a good goddamn about anything. He was here to get drunk and fuck, and that was all. Normally, when he was feeling raw like this, he wouldn't come to such a crowded place, but hello – did he not just make it plain that he wanted to fuck something? Better odds in a huge crowd, better odds of finding someone even remotely attractive in this one-horse piece of shit town. There was only one reason he was back here. Otherwise, he'd had no intention of returning to this fucking burg, and wouldn't have even if his god damn life depended on it.

He'd walked in earlier like he owned the place and had looked around with a frown marring his handsome face, scoping the place out and already on _scan_ for something fuckable. Women approached him after about 20 minutes and four drinks, but he wasn't looking for something soft tonight. He wanted it rough and tumble, with somebody tight and hot who could take anything he fucking dished out … and that meant a male.

But men seemed to find him difficult to approach. Fucking wonder why. Maybe because he was 6'1" tall in a country that seemed to run to puny-ass midgets? Maybe because he exuded an aura of dangerous 'I don't fucking care' and violence? Could it be because he was built like a brick shithouse and moved like he was king of all he surveyed? Or perhaps it was because his clothes cost more than some of these pricks' cars?

Whatever. He didn't mind going on the hunt, and actually tonight it suited his mood. He leaned his elbows on the bar, finished a double Jameson's on the rocks, and motioned to the bartender for another. "Keep 'em comin'," he instructed. He wasn't even halfway to being drunk, but he hadn't even fucking gotten _started_ on the 'getting laid' part of the evening's entertainment. He didn't want to settle for a woman, goddammit, and it was already midnight. Mother fucker. It was making him more and more pissed off.

XXX

When Ichigo, Renji, Orihime, and Tatsuki got back to the table, Ichigo got his surprise. Rukia was sitting there, diminutive and dainty, sipping a mimosa just like Orihime's, only hers had a skewer-full of pineapple and strawberries stuck in it, next to one of those silly paper umbrellas. She was surveying the crowd and didn't see the group return at first, until Tatsuki plopped down next to her. Then she looked up, smiling … saw Ichigo … blushed crimson … and then hardened her face like she always did.

_Aw hell_, Ichigo thought. _Here we go. Still not over it, eh, Rukia?_ Out loud, he said, over the music, "Hey, Rukia. Long time no see!" He smiled tentatively at her, trying to pretend they didn't have the fucked-up past they had.

"I-Ichigo," Rukia said back, coolly. "They said you were coming but I didn't believe it. But … here. You. Are." She was cute in a pink dress that hugged her slight curves, her black hair in that shoulder-length flip she always wore.

Renji stepped in. "All right, you two. Claws in, Rukia. The past is long dead, and you two have just gotta cut the shit and get along, goddammit." His handsome face was glowering with a frown, looking from one of them to the other.

"Yes, please!" Orihime squeaked. "Let's just all get along, like we used to … please?"

Ichigo looked at her, surprised and dismayed to see that she had tears in her eyes. He hated seeing Orihime cry. He looked at Rukia. "I'm all for that."

"You _would_ be," Rukia grouched. "You're not the one who got her heart broken and was made to look like a total _fool_, in one go!"

"This is all old news!" Renji shouted, getting his mad face on now. "Rukia, you knew what the deal was, going in. Ichigo didn't do anything in bad faith." He rubbed the back of his neck. "All right, you two, sit down and fucking hash this shit out. We're all sick of trying ta keep you two apart and not bein' able to get together in a big group like we used to. It's enough! Now siddown, Ichigo, and get this shit settled! We're all sick to fucking death of it!" He pushed Ichigo into the chair to Rukia's immediate left – she shouted that that seat was taken, so Ichigo moved to the one to her right.

Roughly a year and a half ago, Ichigo had made (in his mind) the ultimate bad decision … he'd been drunk and horny and, wondering what the fuss was all about as far as girls went, went to bed with Rukia. Who better? He loved her, as _a friend_. It was supposed to be a 'sex friend' thing, but she had had ulterior motives: apparently she'd liked him for years and was going to give it a go. She'd hoped Ichigo was bi, and that they'd start a relationship that would last forever, off into the sunset, wedding bells, 2.5 kids, house in the burbs – who knows what all she had going on in that little scheming head of hers?

Ichigo hadn't known any of this really important information. They'd fucked, he'd barely made it through it (his gay-ness had only been reinforced by the little tryst!), and afterwards, when he'd told her sadly that it wouldn't happen again, Rukia had hit the roof. She claimed that he'd used her, humiliated her, that he should have known that she liked him … it went on and on. He'd never really gotten the chance to explain.

Then, about two months after it all went down, Rukia had disappeared. Gone to live in Tokyo, some said. Orihime knew a little bit but not much: yes, Rukia was in Tokyo, something momentous had happened to her, and she would be back eventually. But when she did return, she made it clear that she still wanted nothing to do with "that asshole using prick", Ichigo.

Now, Ichigo sat down with his beer and looked at the little woman he had considered one of his best friends. Her body language said it all – she was pissed and still feeling the sting. He was going to have to make the first move to try to rectify this. "Rukia," he began, and she turned to look at him, frowning. "I'm sorry. I really am. I wish I wasn't gay – and not for the first time! I love you, I do … but as a friend. It's all I can offer you. I'm sorry."

She stared at him.

"I know I shouldn't have done it. I was stupid. It was wrong. I wasn't using you, I swear it, but I know it hurt you, and I'm so sorry for that."

Silence.

"I can tell you that it all taught me a valuable lesson. I haven't done anything like that since, and never will again."

She took a sip of her drink and looked at him again, her frown lightening up perhaps just a tiny bit.

"As far as I'm concerned - friends don't fuck. It just ruins things. Just like it did between you and me. We were best friends, and now – I feel like I don't have the right to say I'm your friend at all. And that hurts."

"I … I've been hurting, too, Ichigo." Rukia stared down into the orange juice and champagne in her silly glass.

"I know."

Rukia looked at him … then hauled off and slapped him a good one, right across the face. Ichigo jerked back in surprise … and PAIN, Jesus Christ that woman could fucking hit! … and stared at her. The eye on the slapped side of his face began to water (it was a hard goddamn slap!). When Rukia saw tears begin to roll down Ichigo's cheek, her face crumpled and she grabbed him and hugged him, hard.

"I-Ichigo, I'm sorry too! I've missed you so much!" She started crying.

"Ohhhh!" No-one cried alone in Orihime's presence. She had her hands over her mouth, eyes swimming with tears.

"Oh my GAWD, can we please start partying around here?" Tatsuki sounded disgruntled, but she was grinning from ear to ear. Were the two old friends going to make it up FINALLY?

Ichigo hugged Rukia back just as hard as she was hugging him, eyes closed, a wide grin on his face. And this was the position he was in when a tall dark-haired man walked up to the table and sat down in the 'saved' chair on the other side of Rukia.

Ichigo wiped off his face and opened his eyes, still clutching Rukia, and looked up into the gorgeous gray eyes of Byakuya Kuchiki. Who smiled. Well, sort-of. One side of his mouth quirked up a tiny bit. Ichigo jumped and closed his open mouth. Holy fucking shit, what was he doing here?

Rukia disentangled herself, chuckling and blushing. "Sorry I hit you," she said. "I've been waiting so long for you to say 'I'm sorry' that I didn't think you ever would."

Pretty sure he _had_ said he was sorry, like, over and over, Ichigo wisely kept his mouth shut. Was Kuchiki-sensei Rukia's … _date?_

Rukia noted Byakuya beside her, straightened up, smoothed her hair, and said, "Nii-sama, you're back." She smiled at him, then turned to Ichigo again. "Kurosaki Ichigo, this is my brother, Kuchiki Byakuya. I … believe you know each other from work?"

"Y-your brother?" Ichigo said, unable to take his eyes off of Byakuya. The man was stunning. No other word for it. His long black hair was down, but he had these … hair fasteners of some kind, that divided the black sleek mass into something akin to dreadlocks. It was different, attractive, attention-grabbing … Ichigo sighed. Just like the man himself.

"My family adopted Rukia," Byakuya said smoothly, picking up his drink and sipping it. His hands – surgeon's hands, long-fingered and strong-looking, beautiful. "She was a distant relative, but she was all alone … so we brought her into our branch." He gave her a smile … both sides of his mouth tilted up slightly this time. For the stoic physician, it was practically a grin.

Rukia smiled back at him.

Ichigo just stared. So that's where Rukia had been all this time. Tokyo, yes, but getting added to the Kuchiki family registry, meeting everyone, learning all about the family's holdings … wow. "You must be ecstatic," he said to her. "A family … it's what you've always wanted." He grinned.

She grinned back, nodding. She leaned across the table and said something to Orihime, but Ichigo didn't hear it. Or, he'd stopped listening. Something. Because he was looking at Byakuya. Looking at Rukia's new older brother, Ichigo felt his salivary glands activate. He looked fucking hot. He was wearing a black suit, of course, but the white silk shirt had the two top buttons undone, exposing the man's pristine skin and a glimpse of the hollow between his collar bones. A black tie hung from his neck, pulled loose at the knot. It was apparently as 'dressed-down' as the man could get. Ichigo stopped himself from drooling with an effort.

"Dude," Renji said in a low voice, from Ichigo's other side. "His wife is gone. They called it quits two days ago, and she up and left." Ichigo looked at Renji, who raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Threesome?" he teased.

Ichigo pretended to consider the idea while Renji's eyes got bigger and bigger … then Ichigo laughed. Renji punched him on the shoulder.

"Asshole!"

XXX

_Great_. Scared off another potential lay. He was just too fucking pissed off to play nice, even for a little while. The dark-skinned male had been eyeing him, so he'd bought him a drink, they'd established that "ohhh yeah" contact with their eyes, got a little handsy … but then he'd been too impatient, goddammit. He turned around at the bar, leaning back against it, cigarette dangling from his mouth, Jameson's in his hand. He scanned the bar. Maybe it was _too_ fucking big. Too much going on, and with that omnisexual-whatever bullshit, it was too hard to tell who to approach. He didn't want to appear hard-up or desperate … and being impatient was going to work against him every fucking time.

He _knew_ he should've just gone to a gay bar! Fucking hell. There was no lack of women approaching him, shit no, of course! When he didn't want pussy, they were all over him. Just his fucked-up luck. Par for the course, lately. He growled under his breath, gulped down the rest of the Irish whiskey, then held up his glass for the bartender to replace. It was only 12:30 or so. There was no need to get all fucking worked up about it, he had plenty of time.

XXX

Ichigo had spotted a cute little blond in the crowd. Ooh. Maybe he was in the mood to top tonight. Looking at Byakuya again, he sighed … yeah. Or maybe he was in the mood to bottom tonight. Or he could do both. In the same night. If it was sensei he'd do whatever he wanted!

Jeesh, Ichigo, calm down. _He's straight. Don't go tying yourself up in knots over someone you can't have. Take a lesson from Rukia. Yeah._

So he looked at the blond, who was looking at him and then looking down at the floor, for all intents and purposes – blushing like a schoolboy. Cute. A slow grinding song came on, and Ichigo thought that it'd be just perfect for an introduction to Mr. Blond and Cute over there. "Gonna go dance," he told his friends, then finished his beer and stood up.

When he asked the blond to dance, he came straight into Ichigo's arms and pressed himself close. Ichigo wrapped his arms around the slight, younger man, and they danced slowly to the slow, bass-heavy song. His name was Jamie, and he was a half – his father was in the American military. Ichigo's alarm bells went off. Oh, sure, here - let me get physical with 'Sgt Strong's little boy' and cause an international incident. No thank you. So he just danced, bought the guy a drink, stole a kiss, then went back to his friends. Damn. Hornier than ever.

XXX

It was the orange hair that caught his eye, of course. Bright orange – could that shit be real? But who would – never mind. Every time you thought there was something people wouldn't do, someone came along to fucking prove you wrong. Orange was dancing with a little blond and he had a fit, toned body with muscular arms and thighs. Nice. Couldn't catch a glimpse of his face, it was buried in the blond's neck. Hmm. It was someone he could keep an eye on, that was for damn sure. If he was looking for someone tight and hot, he'd bet his last fucking yen that the orange-haired man would fill the bill.

No lack of hot guys here. But he didn't want to fight anyone for dominance, he wanted to make it god-damned clear from the get-go who was going to be in charge and on top. Grimmjow-fucking-Jaegerjaques, that's who. He slammed the rest of his drink and caught the bartender's attention for another.

XXX

When Ichigo got back to the table, he discovered that Chado had arrived, that was good … and he'd actually brought Uryuu with him. Wow … who woulda thought that tight-ass would loosen up enough to come down off his high horse and do some partying? Ichigo grinned at him anyway … they'd never really gotten along, but he could be civil with anybody. You learned how to do things like that when you dealt with patient's families all the time. At least on the night shift, it wasn't quite the ordeal that Chado had on the day shift, or Renji on afternoons. Or the weekend guys! Ichigo had it easy, comparatively.

Then his mood hit the skids when Dr. Aizen came in. He looked good – nobody could deny that. Where Byakuya found it impossible to dress down into jeans, apparently Aizen had no such qualms. His faded blue jeans and white polo shirt set off his tanned muscular arms and dark wavy hair. He had a nice body, it was true … but that wasn't quite enough for Ichigo. Not with everything he knew about the man.

"Ichigo," Aizen said, looking him up and down wolfishly. "Good to see you out and about."

"Thanks, sensei … good to see you, too," Ichigo lied, ever the diplomat. God … why don't you get tired and go home? Or why can't your beeper go off? Dammit. Talk about a wet blanket.

Orihime, clueless about negative vibes, began chattering away to Dr. Aizen and offered him a seat next to her.

"Ugh … talking shop," Renji grumbled, then smiled at Ichigo. "Want another beer?"

"Definitely. More than ever. Yes."

"You fly, I'll buy," Renji said, pulling a wad of yen out of his pocket. "Here … I'll have a boilermaker."

"Trying something new again?" Ichigo grinned, standing up.

"I read about them. Been around forever! Figured I'd try one."

"Okay. Be right back." Ichigo stood up, fought the urge to stretch since Aizen was there, and walked away through the crowd.

He was roughly ten steps away from the bar when he saw him. A big man with, yeah, he saw it right … _blue_ hair. It was in that tousled, kinda messy style that looked like he'd just got out of bed … after a night of wild lovin'. He was leaning against the bar indolently, cigarette in one hand, drink in the other. His white jeans, slow-slung and tight, outlined muscular, well-shaped legs that seemed to go on forever. He had on a pale gray button-up, unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up to display veined forearms. His chest and belly … _Jesus_, Ichigo thought, and swallowed. _He's fucking beautiful_.

He angled his line of approach to where he'd hit the bar about two barstools down from the blue-haired hunk. Either he was alone or his date had left him for a while … either way, there was no harm in checking him out, right? A little closer? Okay, one barstool down from him. The bartender approached and Ichigo gave him his order. "Two mimosas, four Ichiban Sakuras, a boilermaker, and two double Jim Beam's," he said, tapping his fingers on the bar along with the dance beat currently blasting its way out of the speaker system.

Two seconds. That's all it took. "Yo," a deep rough voice said into his ear, breath ghosting along his neck, causing goose bumps to skitter down his spine. Ichigo turned his head to look into the most brilliant blue eyes he'd ever had the pleasure to meet. Beautiful. That was the only word good enough to describe them. Blue eyebrows angled up from them, and a wicked grin made them crinkle at the corners.

"Heh," Ichigo said, smiling back. Holy shit the guy was a fucking gorgeous man.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques," he said, leaning against the bar. "And you are …?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Well, Kurosaki-san," Grimmjow said, still grinning, eyes pinning Ichigo in place. "That's one helluva drink order. Which one of 'em is yours?"

"Beer," Ichigo said, tearing his eyes away, only to have them dragged back by a low chuckle. "What's so funny?"

"Yer hair … it's real, ain't it."

Ichigo grimaced slightly, but didn't get a chance to reply. The man – Grimmjow – continued, "I'd like to see if yer hair is that color all over." He took a drink while he watched Ichigo take in this comment.

He could feel the blush rise up in his cheeks. Fuuuck. Guy didn't waste any time, did he. The bartender had set the beers down in front of Ichigo and was getting the boilermaker together. "Trust me … it is," he said, not looking at Jaegerjaques-san. He could feel the presence of the blue-haired man, like a spiritual pressure of some kind (A/N – hehe), as he drew in closer.

"Prove it." He grinned when Ichigo shot him a glance. "I like the way ya look. I like the sound of yer voice. I think we could have a good time tagether, and I don't believe in wastin' precious time." He lightly stroked a finger down Ichigo's bare arm. "Mm … soft."

The bartender set the rest of Ichigo's order up on a tray and told him the cost. Ichigo dug for Renji's bills, extracting it from his back pocket. His hands were clumsy and he dropped some yen when fishing it out. He ducked down to pick them up, and stole a glance at the bluenet's crotch when he was crouched down. Clearly outlined by the tight white jeans, down the medial aspect of his upper left thigh … _Jesus Christ_. _If that's how big it is flaccid, how big would it be when it was hard? _He stood back up to meet Grimmjow's amused stare. _Like he knew_.

Ichigo paid the bartender and picked up the tray. "Nice to meet you, Jaegerjaques-san … I better get back to my friends."

"Friends? Not a boyfriend?" He gazed down at the orange-haired man, eyes intense.

Smolder alert! "Ah, no. Not … well, not really. I, um … well, it's hard to explain."

"I have plenty of time," slightly sarcastic, accompanied by a flash of irritation or anger, which was quickly subdued.

"Well, I don't. Sorry. See ya." Ichigo started to turn away, and found his arm grasped lightly by a strong hand.

"Put th' tray down. Come with me. I promise … you'll _love_ it." It wasn't a come-on, Ichigo could tell the man was saying exactly what he meant and meant what he said.

"I …" _I wish I could? Jesus!_ "M-maybe some other time. Sorry … I have to go."

And with that, Ichigo pulled away and walked back around the perimeter of the dance floor.

XXX

Orange hair. Golden-brown eyes, warm, unlike anything he'd ever seen. Taut muscles, fine ass, sweet full lips. Grimmjow wanted to grab him up, throw him on top of the bar, and fuck his brains out. Make him scream. Make him scream his _name_. He wanted to undress in front of him and watch his eyes when he got his first glimpse of how much Grimmjow wanted him. His dick twitched in his pants. Goddammit. Mother fuckin' son of a bitch. He wanted him. Wanted those lips wrapped around his cock. Wanted those arms wound tightly around his neck, those legs around his waist. Wanted to sink into him, slowly, to the hilt, buried in tight heat. He turned back to face the bar after he watched Ichigo walk away, then rubbed his face. Shit.

He got another drink and headed for the back door, deciding to cool his heels for a bit, have a smoke, decide on a game plan. He wanted to end up with the orange-haired man _tonight_, so he needed to calm down, think it over, and then put a plan into action. Grimmjow looked around after closing the Seireitei's back door behind him. There was a group of girls smoking to his left (they looked at him, giggling and whispering), so he went to the right. Clean place, for an alley. Grimmjow walked past a dumpster and some trash cans, making his way to a dark alcove. Maybe he'd hang here for a minute, or go for a walk … he chuffed out an irritated breath, then lit a cigarette. Fuck. The day's events tried to intrude on his thoughts, but he pushed them roughly away. No. No, he could worry about all that tomorrow. Tonight was for him. He needed release, he needed _relief_, he needed forgetfulness. And he knew where to get it.

XXX

When Renji, Tatsuki, and Dr. Aizen all decided to go out back and smoke a joint (Dr. AIZEN? Smoke a j? Holy shit!), Ichigo went with them. He didn't smoke weed, but wasn't one of those militant weirdos who would turn in their friends or scold them for doing something so relatively harmless. So he smoked a cigarette out there with them as they walked down the alley, toking away. Dr. Aizen said he'd been smoking off and on since he was a teenager – that he'd been involved in a gang of sorts before getting forcefully straightened out when his parents shipped him off to Europe to get him away from his 'low-life friends'.

Surprising, Ichigo thought. He could almost warm up to the man, and being drunk just amplified that sensation. He leaned back against the building, smoking, smiling slightly … thinking about Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. What a fucking stunner. All that blue hair … wonder if _his_ hair was that color all over? A chuckle escaped his lips, and then he heard an answering one. Doctor Aizen stood right in front of him … and Renji and Tatsuki were gone. What the fuck? How long had he been day-dreaming?

"Ichigo-kun," Aizen said, his voice deep and throaty.

"Yes, sir?" Ichigo answered. Hey … wakey-wakey, this is dangerous! Alone! Dark alley! Drunk! Stoned Aizen! Get out of here! But the little warning voice went unheard. Doubly so when a hand stroked his dick through his jeans, as a warm body pressed up against his. "D-Doctor Aizen? Wh-what are you—"

"Be a good boy, Ichigo-kun," the older man slurred, rubbing Ichigo's cock with a skilled hand. He leaned against the handsome younger man, then captured his mouth, forcing his lips apart and slipping his tongue inside, thrusting it in and out, catching and holding Ichigo's attention while his hands worked to get that zipper down.

The next thing Ichigo knew, he was looking down at the top of Dr. Aizen's head. His boss was … licking his cock! What the hell? He … he needed to … aw, god, it felt so _good_ … wait, no! "Doctor Aizen … please, Aizen-sama, stop!"

His only reply was a humming moan as the man engulfed Ichigo's hard member, all the way, until his nose was pressed into orange curls. Ichigo gasped when the man started swallowing around it. He put his hands on Aizen's head, wanting to push him away. He _did_ push him away, only to have the older man take him all the way in again. "Aizen-sensei … st-stop, please … sir … nnh …." Fuck, it felt _so_ good. How long since _he_ had had anyone go down on _him_? Far too long.

_But this is your_ boss.

Aizen was really getting into it now, sucking Ichigo's fully-erect cock, licking it, taking it all the way in, then out, then in again. "Sir, please … no more … ahh … hah …." Faster now. Humming with pleasure as Ichigo leaked seminal fluid, a hand on his balls, gently caressing them.

Movement caught his eyes. In a dark alcove almost directly across the alley. Someone coming forward … oh fuck … blue hair – blue eyes – looking right at him. Oh my gods, it was him! He … he was …

…

He was jacking off. Watching and jacking off. What the _fuck_. But it was too good, he'd been hard in an instant. Ichigo's reluctance, the older man's persistence, Ichigo's face blushing with unwanted pleasure … god _damn_. He envied "Aizen-sensei".

Being good and drunk helped, too. His inhibitions, never very strong in the first place, were gone. Well … in for a penny, in for a fucking pound. He stepped forward a bit, so that light from the distant streetlight would hit him. Ichigo's eyes widened as they saw what Grimmjow was doing, his long thick cock glistening with the fluid he'd smeared over it. Stroking it, thrusting his hips slightly, his eyes locked on Ichigo's. He mouthed the words, _come with me_, and used his other hand to splay his fingers on his belly, running them up onto his chest, up to his mouth, sucking on the index and middle fingers, holding Ichigo's gaze.

…

And that was _it_. There was no holding back now. Ichigo gasped when he read Grimmjow's lips, when he saw the long thick length of the man's erection … and when he put his fingers into his mouth, Ichigo spread his arms out along the building behind him, his head tilted back on his neck, and he gasped, "yesss … oh, _yes_," unable to tear his gaze away from the vision across the alley. The man was stroking hard and fast now, the muscles in his arm bunching, his head going back too … but he never took his gaze off Ichigo. "M coming … oh god … I-I'm coming!" A sibilant whisper. Ichigo pushed Aizen off his dick, the man fell backward, slightly dazed, looking up at the oranget, as Ichigo wrapped his fingers around his cock and finished by himself, stroking it out, staring at Grimmjow. "Ahh … ah! Yeah … oh yeah …." Turning slightly, cum shooting out, he gasped and moaned, feeling it all the way to his toes, pleasure shooting outward from his groin … god _damn_ it was good!

Without a word, never once revealing his presence to the stricken Aizen, Grimmjow came, too, his body jerking with it, cum spurting out of his heavy erection, face contorted with pleasure, eyes locked on the other man. It took effort, coming silently, but he did it. Then he grinned wolfishly at the panting, nearly-sobbing Ichigo, tucked himself away and zipped up, then melted back into the shadows of the alcove.

…

Ichigo tucked himself away, too, and zipped up. He glared hard at Doctor Aizen, then started walking back toward the Seireitei back door.

"Ichigo-kun …"

"Don't, sir. Please." He sure felt less drunk than he had ten minutes ago. "I … I didn't want this … and I'm going to ask you … please don't approach me in this manner again."

"Kurosaki-kun … you liked it," Aizen said, getting back to his feet, an incongruous boner tenting the front of his jeans. He took a step toward Ichigo.

In the alcove, Grimmjow found himself taking a step toward that fucking "Aizen-sensei", one hand balling up into a fist. Then he stopped himself, wondering what in the fuck he thought he was doing.

Ichigo held up a hand. "I'm drunk … you're drunk and stoned … let's just say we let things get out of hand, and leave it at that." His voice was firm, although he swayed a little where he stood.

"I … " Aizen looked down at Ichigo. "I really do like you, Ichigo-kun."

"Sir … you're my boss. This can't be. I'd have to quit. And I don't want to do that. Let's just forget about this. Please." He took a step or two away. "I—I'll go in first. See you inside, sensei." Without another word, without a glance, Ichigo turned and made his way back into the club.

Aizen stood there for a few more minutes, staring at Ichigo's cum on the alley pavement. He bent down to look at it. Grimmjow watched, frowning. Was this guy some kind of sick prick? Fuck he hoped not.

But no, Aizen straightened up, smoothing his hair and wiping off his mouth. He both ways down the alley, mumbled something to himself that Grimmjow couldn't hear, then followed Ichigo inside. Grimmjow leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. He felt surprisingly calm, and even though it'd just been jacking, he felt satisfied. Ichigo.

Ichigo Kurosaki. We will meet again, have no fucking doubt of that.

XXX

Back at the table inside with his friends, Ichigo picked up his beer and downed it, only to have Renji plop another one on the table in front of him. Ichigo was in the process of making a huge dent in this beer, when he felt a light touch on his thigh. Sitting next to him on that side was …

… was ….

Byakuya Kuchiki. Ichigo almost spit beer across the table. A hot slick feeling slid around deep inside his pelvis. The hand squeezed, letting him know it was no accident, and Ichigo's abdominal muscles fluttered and clenched. Had he said earlier, 'when it rains, it pours'?

Yeah. Yeah he had. And yeah, it did.

He turned and looked at the older man, the older _beautiful_ man. Kuchiki-sensei gave him one of those little smiles, and squeezed his thigh again, higher on his leg this time. "S-Sensei?" he whispered.

"What is it, Ichigo-chan?" he asked with that gorgeous honeyed voice, and Ichigo smiled back at him. _Gawd_.

But … that blue hair. Those blue eyes.

But … he'd wanted Byakuya Kuchiki for-fucking-_ever_.

But … aw, fuck it. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, anyway, right? He turned to Byakuya and put his hand over the hand on his thigh.

XXX

**End Chapter 3**

**Ichigo Kurosaki the horn-dog! Lmao**

**More to come soon! Hope you enjoyed it. **

**Ahvienda**


	4. Chapter 4 Weekend

**Chapter 4 – Weekend**

**Back to the story! XD**

**Same warnings, same disclaimer, different day, different chapter. **

No, Ichigo did _not_ take Byakuya Kuchiki home with him after going to Seireitei. Oh, he wanted to, damn skippy! He also didn't pull the man into the bar's men's room to suck what was sure to be an extraordinarily elegant cock … or molest him on the train as he accompanied a drunk but completely cute Sensei home (like a gentleman would) … or drag him back into the alley where Dr. Aizen had given Ichigo that surprise-attack blowjob and _pass it on_ … or crawl onto the man's lap in the back seat of his chauffeured car and sliiiide "Little Byakuya" into Ichigo's all-too-willing ass … OR any of the other hot scenarios that had flashed like lightning through his head as the warm hand had caressed his thigh.

That surprise Aizen bj had sobered Ichigo up, more's the pity, because with sobriety comes intelligence, responsibility, and sensibility. Shit. Byakuya Kuchiki had just broken up with his wife … she'd only moved out two days ago. He had to be in a state, even though outwardly he was as calm and serious as he always was. And although Ichigo was more than willing to provide comfort services (that's already been made pretty plain, yes?), he had to tread carefully when it was with someone he worked with. Most especially someone he worked with who also just _happened_ to be Rukia's new brother. That was a pretty sticky scenario, no matter how you looked at it, given his history with the volatile little black-haired woman.

So instead, he'd laced his fingers through the doctor's, under the table, unseen by anyone else. He'd exchanged secret 'looks' with the other man – that incredibly handsome man. They had 'accidently' drunk from the same glass, and Byakuya's little smile told Ichigo he was more than aware that Ichigo had helplessly thought _indirect kiss_ as the doctor's lips touched the rim. When Byakuya's hand had strayed even higher on Ichigo's thigh, along with the thrill and the semi, the orange-haired man thought, _why? _Why would Byakuya be coming on to him now? Had he had a revelation about his sexuality? Had his marriage been a sham from the get-go? Too many questions.

So, Ichigo had politely declined the invitation to the after-party at the Kuchiki residence, pleading a busy Saturday ahead. (Which wasn't exactly untrue.) He'd given Sensei a heated glance before leaving, one that hopefully had said, _this isn't over_. Then he'd bid everyone at the table farewell, kissed the girls and just barely managed to dodge a kiss from Renji (who was a rollicking _tart_ when hammered), and walked away with a cheerful wave.

He didn't see Mr. Sexy Blue-Hair anywhere. Apparently the man had already left. Tamping down a sensation of disappointment (he didn't need complications like that in his life!) he'd caught the next-to-the-last train and made it home in one piece – alone.

…

Saturday was rainy, cold, and dreary as hell. It didn't make much difference to Ichigo, snug inside his dimly-lit apartment, sipping coffee as he went about his chores for the day. Clean the bathroom, check. Kitchen, check. Vaccuum, check. Make a shopping list for later in the day – and don't forget those ice cream sandwiches and that oolong tea that Stark likes – check.

He went about his day, keeping busy, only letting up to have lunch or have a cigarette. He didn't let his mind dwell on Ulquiorra … but every once in a while something would remind him of one of his beloveds, and he would smile – either externally, with his lips, or internally, with his heart. They were never far from his mind.

Later, the rain had let up – perfect timing to leave and get the shopping done. Afterward, as he sat at the edge of the river with his groceries in three bags at his feet, he couldn't help but think of Starrk, who could actually arrive at any moment – he was notorious for his horrible time estimation skills - and Starrk's ex-lover, Kira Izuru. Kira. One of the beloveds, one of the ones who hadn't made it. Ichigo stared at the black rushing water and fell into memory.

…

_The first patient to die under Ichigo's care._

_Izuru Kira, aged 28, had suffered a catastrophic brain hemorrhage and was not expected to survive. An automobile accident, which account for a huge percentage of head injuries, was the cause of Kira's original injury. His vehicle was hit head-on by a drunk driver, and Kira was the unlucky victim of seatbelt failure. He was ejected through the windshield of his Honda Accord and landed some 80 feet away in a concrete drainage ditch. The driver of the other vehicle was killed._

_Izuru-san arrived per ambulance at Karakura General ER at 2238 hours (10:38 pm). He was unconscious, bleeding from numerous lacerations _and_ both ears, and had sustained a violent blow to the head – along with numerous peripheral fractures, namely: bilateral femurs, right distal radius, and seven ribs. He arrived strapped to a backboard, intubated, large bore IV in the left forearm. The patient was posturing … the series of repeated "curling in" movements of both arms and shoulders that denote a serious brain injury. He was stabilized, taken to the OR where his fractures were repaired, and taken straight from the Operating Room to the ICU. Here it was noted that he was leaking cerebral-spinal fluid from his left ear as well as blood._

_When Kira finally arrived at 3C, three weeks later, there was virtually no hope. But his family refused to take him off the ventilator. His father had been dead since Kira was four years old, and he was all his mother had left. By her side the whole time was Starrk Coyote, Kira's companion and best friend, lover and future husband. He was devastated – the two had been together since junior high school. When Ichigo first met him, his eyes were so swollen from crying that he looked as though he'd been beaten. He hadn't slept for four days and was practically manic. He could barely speak, was shaking like a leaf … he hadn't shaved or bathed or eaten in days._

_Kira had been settled in to Room 13 during the day shift, so by the time Ichigo arrived for the midnight shift he was resting comfortably, respirator whooshing softly next to his bed, the monitors beeping softly as they kept a watchful eye on Kira's bodily functions. Renji had given Ichigo report and passed the torch, especially as far as Coyote-san was concerned. The man needed to take care of himself, even as the dedicated team of nurses at 3C were caring for Kira._

_Ichigo entered Room 313 and put his shoulder bag down on his desk, dimming the lamp that stood there. His room was full now … the other two patients had included Jinta Hanakari (another success story … a young boy in a diabetic coma who had been successfully reversed after 2 months on 3C) and __Mayuri Kurotsuchi (who had eventually been moved by his family to a hospital in America at the insistence of his paternal grandfather). He said hello to them one by one, in a soft voice, checking their monitors with quick glances as he leaned in to whisper greetings. Then he turned to his new patient in the last bed. _

_Walking around the Japanese screen, the first thing to impress itself on Ichigo was Kira's eyes. The pressure inside his skull (despite burr holes being drilled in a return to the OR) was pushing them outward, making them bulge. His face was puffy and pasty-white, only a few strands of blond hair escaping from one side of the bulky bandages around his head. Ichigo walked up to him, leaned over his new patient and said, "Good evening, Kira-chan … I'm Ichigo, your over-night nurse. I'm so sorry you are here." And petted his cheek softly. "Let's see what we can do for you tonight." _

_Ichigo had spotted the bundle of wrinkly clothes and messy brown hair in the chair off to the side of Kira's bed, but had supposed the man was asleep. He was proven wrong. "He – he can't hear you," a shaky voice croaked. _

_Ichigo looked at the shadowy figure beyond Kira's supine form and said in a calm and quiet voice, "Are you certain about that?" He paused as he looked at Kira again. "I'll be with you in one moment, sir," he said, glancing at the man in the chair, and resumed checking Kira's condition. Vital signs were stable, if in the low range of normal. Renji had been busy on his shift … Kira's nails were clean and filed … his urine and bm bags were almost empty … and his dressings were clean, dry, and intact. He did raise the head of Kira's bed slightly, carefully turning his head a bit to the side, and did trach care. "There," he said soothingly, smoothing the warm soft blankets over Kira's chest. "We won't be able to turn you until I get some help in here, but I will, soon." He patted Kira's shoulder and then looked again at the mess of a man in the chair._

"_I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, I'll be Kira-san's nightshift nurse," he said, walking over to the man and bowing slightly. "Would you happen to be Coyote-san?"_

_Starrk struggled to his feet. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough and scratchy. "Kurosaki-san … what … I mean, do you think he can hear us?" His puffy eyes, open mere slits, slid over to look at Kira, then back to Ichigo._

"_I prefer to think so," Ichigo said. He walked up to Starrk and put an arm around his shoulders. "Come. Sit down over here. I'm going to call in a sitter and we'll get you taken care of."_

_He held back. "I … I can't leave! What if he …." His face crumpled as he stammered to a stop. What if he wakes up? What if he dies? The sentence could have gone either way. He didn't finish._

"_Coyote-san … please. Please. Sit here." Then Ichigo called Ishida and got him to come watch over his room for a while. "If there is any change whatsoever in Izuru-san's condition, call us back immediately, please."_

"_Of course," Uryuu replied, bowing to Starrk, who was weeping silently._

_Ichigo had taken Starrk to the men's locker room, stripped him, and pushed him into the shower, practically having to wash the crying man. He _did_ wash his hair, he shaved him, and got him into some fresh clean scrubs. Then he dragged him to the cafeteria and teased the staff into giving him a tray full of food to take back to the room. The only time he showed any energy whatsoever was when they were on their way back to Room 313 … and then it was only his complete and utter fatigue that kept him from running._

"_Thank you, Ishida-san," Ichigo said when they returned. Uryuu bowed again to Starrk, told him there had been no change, and left. "Here … sit here, sir," Ichigo said, and helped the man sit at the desk. "Please eat, Coyote-san," he begged. "You will need your strength, yes?" _

_In the end, Starrk had eaten some of the pudding, a roast beef sandwich (or at least part of one), and several bottles of oolong tea. While he ate, Uryuu came back and helped Ichigo carefully turn Kira to a half-lateral position, left side "down", bolstering him with pillows, keeping a watchful eye on his monitor the entire time. After Uryuu left, Ichigo turned Mayuri and Jinta. Then he walked back over to Starrk, who was by now standing at Kira's bedside again._

"_Coyote-san—"_

"_Please. Call me Starrk." His affect was entirely flat. He stared at Kira, holding his hand._

"_Starrk-san … you must rest. Come. This couch is very comfortable. I will take good care of Kira and if there is any change, anything at all, I will wake you." Ichigo carefully took Starrk's arm and led him over to the couch that stood to the left of the door, opposite the nurse's desk. He opened the closet and removed a fresh pillow and blanket. Starrk sat down, staring at the still figure on the bed. _

"_One minute … we were planning to fly to America to get married. And the next …." Tears slowly rolled down his cheeks. Ichigo sat down next to him, nodding sympathetically. "I … I can't sleep," Starrk said. "I just can't sleep, it's been days, I don't know how long. I've tried. But … every time I close my eyes … every time … I keep seeing …."_

"_Shh," Ichigo murmured, and put an arm around the grieving man's shoulders. "I know, Starrk-san. But he is safe here … he is in no pain … and you are here by his side. I will awaken you if anything happens. I promise." Starrk Coyote turned to Ichigo and buried his face in Ichi's chest, arms clenched tight around his middle. He cried some more while Ichigo rubbed his shoulders and patted his back … and then within five minutes, had fallen asleep._

…

_After the third EEG, Dr. Kuchiki had to make it clear to Kira's mother that he was, essentially, brain-dead. The machines were keeping his body functioning, but her son was no longer 'there'. Starrk Coyote insisted that Ichigo be there when the machines were turned off … so they did it at midnight, during one of Ichigo's shifts. Starrk and Kira's mother held each other even as they clung to Kira's right hand, unable to keep from hoping that a miracle might occur - that the once-vibrant blond would open his eyes and ask for a Mountain Dew. _

_Ichigo knew better. They could comfort each other at the moment, it was Ichigo's job at this point to send Kira off with loving care. He leaned in close from the dying man's left side. "Safe journey, Kira-chan," he whispered, his forehead pressed to Kira's left temple. The bulging eyes were gone, instead he now looked like a pale golden beauty with aristocratic features. _

"_Kira … my son," his mother moaned as she wept._

"_We love you, Kira," Starrk said, his voice rough with anguish, squeezing his lover's hand._

"_Yes," Ichigo affirmed quietly, near Kira's ear. He'd cared for Kira for three weeks and had grown to love his charge, as always happened. "We love you." Then he backed off to give the family their alone time with Kira, standing at the foot of the bed in case he was needed._

_Dr. Kuchiki bowed to Starrk and Kira's mother, then turned and placed a hand on Kira's chest for about 10 seconds. After a quick nod of his head, he turned to the ventilator and turned it off. He disconnected it from Kira's neck and stepped back. The machine's swooshing had ceased. The beeping of the monitor began to slow, then it began to race frantically as Kira's wounded brain stem reacted to the lack of oxygen in Kira's blood. Soon enough it slowed again. Slower. The man never drew a single breath. When the machine began to alarm Dr. Kuchiki silenced it. _

_Kira's mother and fiance stayed near him, petting him, crying, whispering to him. Ichigo held himself rigid, maintaining his professional demeanor. When the machine showed a flat line, Dr. Kuchiki stepped forward again to listen to Kira's chest with his stethoscope. He straightened, removed it, and put a hand on Kira's mother's shoulder. He shook his head._

_He was gone._

…

Starrk Coyote didn't sleep, during the whole time Kira was in Room 313, unless Ichigo was there. He insisted that he _couldn't_ sleep without Ichigo. Once he wrapped his arms around the oranget, he would be sound asleep within a few minutes.

So, occasionally, Starrk made what he called a 'Pilgrimage to the God of Sleep', and made the trip back to Karakura to visit Ichigo in order to - yes – sleep with him. For real. But this time, Ichigo was in for a surprise.

XXX

Starrk Coyote actually arrived early Sunday morning. Ichigo, since his schedule was opposite most of the rest of the world, was getting ready to go to bed when the doorbell rang. Who would be at his door this early on a Sunday morning? Nobody but Starrk Coyote … unless it was his family come to try to coerce him into going to church. Not likely.

The door opened to reveal the tall handsome brunet, leaning against the door jamb, looking like he could use about 5 days' worth of straight snooze-time. Then again, he almost always looked like that. "Ichigo," he said with a lazy grin. "Finally." He laughed lightly, although the undercurrent of relief was obvious.

"Bring your blankie with you this time?" Ichigo replied, keeping it light.

"Sort-of," the other man teased. He leaned forward and grabbed Ichigo for a bro-hug.

"Now … I can't say that makes _me_ feel any good," a deep soft voice said from the hallway. Another man stepped into view. He was tall, with silver-white hair and eyes that were slitted closed by the wide, closed-mouthed grin he wore. Ichigo felt a tingle in his nether regions that he quickly subdued. (Jesus, what was wrong with him lately!)

"You're not my blankie, Gin," Starrk said, turning to the man, his arm still around Ichigo's shoulders. "You're my _pacifier_." He laughed softly. The tall man's grin became even more pronounced.

"Open wide," he teased, and both men snickered like twelve-year-olds discovering porn.

Ichigo felt a slight blush taint his cheeks. Whoa. He smiled at the two of them, and then offered a hand to Gin. "Ichigo Kurosaki. Pleased to meet you, Mr. …?"

"Gin Ichimaru," he said through a chuckle, and shook Ichigo's hand. "So you are the God of Sleep," he continued, opening his eyes slightly to look Ichigo up and down.

"Well, that's what this idiot thinks," Ichigo elbowed Starrk in the side.

"Ichigoooo," Starrk whined. "I haven't slept a wink since last time …."

"I beg to differ," Gin cut in.

"… and I wanted you to meet Gin, too. He's … he's my new partner." Starrk slid an arm around Gin's waist.

"Fiancé," Gin cut in again, holding up one finger.

"Wow! That's great!" Ichigo clapped Starrk on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's not stand in the hall and talk, come in, come in!"

…

Gin Ichimaru had a dry _naughty_ wit that had Ichigo near to tears from laughing. Glad he'd stocked up on oolong tea, they spent a little over an hour drinking and talking. Ichigo learned that Starrk had met Gin after the man had caught sight of him trying to nap in a seaside park. Then he'd stalked him, basically, arranging little surprise encounters in which Gin would always pretend to be just as amazed as Starrk at the 'chance occurrences' that kept throwing them together.

Finally Starrk had become suspicious, he'd demanded an explanation – and Gin Ichimaru had responded with one of the most fervent, heartfelt declarations of love that Starrk had ever even _heard_ of. Starrk had replied that he did not love Gin … and the silver-haired man had backed off immediately, saying he would be patient and wait, as long as it took, just _please_ give him permission to keep trying. He refused to give up. Starrk was moved. For the first time since losing Kira, he felt something stirring in his heart.

But soon it was almost 9 a.m., and that meant Ichigo the mid-shift worker had to get to sleep. Starrk was happy to hear it. "Got 'em?" he asked Ichigo, following him into the bedroom.

"Of course!" Ichigo said. He opened the closet doors, pawed through stacked clothing on one of the shelves, and came out with a pair of flannel pajamas, white with green shamrocks all over them.

"Don't tell me … those are the 'lucky pjs'," Gin said, grinning.

"Wait til you feel how soft they are," Starrk said through a yawn. "Ichigo, the magic is already working."

"I'm sleepy too," the orange-haired man replied. He looked at Starrk, then glanced at Gin. Normally – that is, pre-Gin – Ichigo would put on the lucky pajamas, and then he and Starrk would get into bed. Starrk would snuggle Ichigo and they would talk about Kira until Starrk finally went to sleep. Ichigo would get up to go to work but Starrk would still be sleeping. Sometimes he would still be sleeping when Ichigo left for work again, the next night! But now … what was Starrk planning? "So …" he began. "What, er … what do you want to do?"

"Well, I know what _I_ want to do," Gin said, snickering.

"Ichi," Starrk said, with a mildly warning glance at his fiancé, "I needed Gin to see that this thing you and I do is, well … innocent. Is it okay if, uh … I guess there's really no other way to say it. Is it okay if we all sleep together? Just sleep."

"_Darn_," Gin said under his breath.

Ichigo looked at his alarm clock. Almost 9:30! "Okay, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to change into those pajamas, brush my teeth, and get into bed. You guys decide what you're doing and who's sleeping where and all that … but I gotta get some sleep."

Starrk yawned so hard his eyes watered. Gin's gaze softened as he watched Starrk rub his eyes like a little boy. "C'mon," he said, his voice low and brimming with love, "let's go to sleep, ne?"

With that, Ichigo turned and went into the bathroom, the pjs tucked under his arm. When he came out, Starrk was wearing a pair of pale blue pajama pants, also flannel, but Gin was in a pair of blood-red silk ones. Turning his eyes away from two sculpted torsos, Ichigo swallowed and climbed into bed. Starrk was right behind him. He crawled in next to Ichigo, once again wrapping his arms around Ichigo and snuggling in close. Gin got in bed next to Starrk and spooned him from behind. Starrk's head was tucked into Ichigo's armpit, practically, and Gin's head was on Ichigo's shoulder. Ichi swallowed again. _Gods_, he thought. _This is … not the same_.

Starrk sighed, his body relaxing. "Missed you, Ichigo," he murmured, squeezing. His right leg was on top of Ichigo's. Gin's breath tickled onto Ichigo's neck. Fighting to maintain, Ichigo patted Starrk's arm and closed his eyes. They opened again when Starrk breathed, "I miss Kira, too."

"Yes," Ichigo said.

Gin kissed the back of Starrk's head.

Starrk: "Do you still think about him all the time, Ichi? Still … talk to him, like you used to?"

"Yes."

Silence for a moment. Then Starrk said, "That … comforts me."

Gin kissed the back of Starrk's head again, murmuring soothing words, petting his hair. All was quiet then, and for once, Ichigo fell asleep before Starrk did.

…

He awoke once during the "night", hearing soft moans and sounds from the other side of the bed. Starrk and Gin, kissing, murmuring, holding each other. Ichigo smiled sleepily. He had a feeling that he would not be getting many more 'pilgrimage visits' in the future. He snuggled down in the blankets and went back to sleep.

…

Sunday night, and Ichigo was going in early, as requested by Orihime on Friday, in order to get filled in on the new patient in room 313. He would have two patients from now on, until Shinji or the new man woke up. That was the only way he could look at it. He walked up the stairs to the third floor and entered the men's locker room. Oh shit. Standing in front of his locker, wearing only a pair of low-rise black boxer briefs – Byakuya Kuchiki. His black hair was down, streaming down past his shoulder blades. His pale skin was glowing with health, muscles rippling as he turned at the waist to see who had come in. When he noted it was Ichigo, his eyes darkened and he gave one of those little tight-lipped smiles. "Kurosaki," he said, turning the rest of the way around.

Ichigo's pupils dilated as he gazed on male perfection. He stood there, speechless and motionless, as Byakuya approached, ambling over in a hipshot manner that bespoke a person completely at home in his body. "We have some talking to do, do we not? But now is not the time for that, is it."

Ichigo mutely shook his head. He had to get changed and go to work.

"We will talk. But in the meantime, I wish to give you something to think about." He took the two steps that brought him flush up against Ichigo, and wrapped his arms around the younger man. He pressed his long lean body up against the red-haired male's, molding himself to the hard young body, fully aware of the effect he was having. "Kurosaki," he murmured, "turn your face up to me."

Ichigo did it. How could he not? Lips on his. Warm, insistent, skillful. A hand cupping the back of his head, the other clutching him tight to that naked chest. Ichigo had an instant boner that made him feel rather faint. Or it could be the thorough mouth-ravishing he was getting. Either way, Byakuya felt it through those jeans and began a sensuous motion with his hips, rubbing his awakening member against Ichigo's hardness.

Ichigo moaned. It felt _so_ good. How long had it been since he'd had actual sex? At the moment it felt like forever. Byakuya licked Ichigo's lips, then licked and kissed his cheek, down to his jaw, and onto his neck, still moving his hips in that timeless manner. Ichigo stole a look down to see that those little boxer briefs could no longer contain Byakuya's erect penis – the head had worked its way out past the waistband. Flared, dark pink, just beginning to leak fluid from the slit. Ichigo's breath gusted out as his abdominal muscles contracted. Byakuya gave another nudge with his hips that sent that gorgeous head sliding up onto Ichigo's t-shirt-covered belly.

Ichigo yanked the t-shirt up and out of the way, tucking the hem into his mouth. He reached for his fly but Byakuya was too fast for him … he ducked his head and took one of Ichigo's nipples in his mouth, sucking it hard, nipping with his teeth, then sucking it again with enthusiasm. Ichigo gasped, hands in soft silky black hair, on the verge of coming in his jeans.

With an apologetic kiss to both Ichigo's nipples, Byakuya raised his head again and smiled as he pulled Ichigo's t-shirt out of the orange-head's mouth. "I am sorry," he said huskily, "I had no intention of letting it go that far. I know that you are just coming on duty." He kissed Ichigo again, but this one was not the sensual onslaught the first one was. "Forgive me."

"Y-yes," Ichigo said. He leaned his forehead against Byakuya's chest and swallowed hard. "Sensei … if you really want to talk with me? We can't do any of that, er … beforehand."

"But of course, after is fine?" Byakuya asked, humor tracing his voice.

Ichigo swallowed. He couldn't argue with that. It wouldn't matter what they talked about, he'd wanted Byakuya Kuchiki for too long. Remember, he reminded himself – you have questions you want answers to. He smiled up at the doctor.

Who looked back at him, eyes piercing. "There now. We will have our talk, soon. Get changed, I will not molest you further." He backed away a step, then turned and went back to his own locker.

Ichigo unlocked his locker with shaking hands. Son of a BITCH. He took a deep shaky breath and heard a quiet chuckle behind him. Changing quickly, he spied on the good doctor in his locker mirror as he dressed in street clothes. "Be careful heading home, sensei," Ichigo said, shutting his locker door.

"Of course. Have a good night, Kurosaki."

The way he said his _name_! Gawd.

…

Time to get report on the new patient in Ichigo's room. The weekend evening RN, Luppi Antenor, met with Ichigo in the lounge over a cup of coffee. "Hi, Ichi," Luppi said, waving as he saw the other nurse walk in.

Ichigo freshened up his coffee and grabbed an apple cinnamon danish from the lounge stash, then sat down next to Luppi so that they could speak about the new patient in low tones, keeping the HIPAA privacy regulations in mind. He took out a pen and tapped it on the table. Luppi flopped his notebook and a patient chart onto the tabletop and eyed Ichigo's danish.

"Yer gonna get fat as a cow eating shit like that," he muttered, eyes on the sweet enviously.

"Have a bite, shortie," Ichigo said, smiling innocently.

"Fuckin' orange-headed twit," Luppi returned, grouchily.

Ichigo snickered. Luppi, although he looked little and sweet and borderline-angelic, was actually a sarcastic, bad-tempered guy, quick with an arrogant insult when the occasion warranted it. But he was a fantastic nurse with tireless energy, and the patient's families _loved_ him.

"I'm trying to put some weight on," Ichigo said, knowing exactly what was coming.

Luppi gaped. "You … are the meanest prick I've ever met." He couldn't even sit next to that danish without it going straight to his thighs.

"Sorry, sorry!" Ichigo said, grinning.

"Gimme." Luppi leaned forward, his mouth open. "Ahhh …." He took a little tiny nibble when Ichigo lifted the danish to his mouth. "Ohhh … I think I just _came_ in my scrubs." His face was a lesson in ecstacy.

"TMI, dude," Ichigo said. "Whoops," he said, glancing at the clock. "Time's wastin'. Gimme the scoop."

"Wait. First tell me why you look like you do."

"Huh?"

"Flushed. Slightly dewy. Like _you_ just fuckin' came in _your_ scrubs." His face was impish, his tone rakish. Luppi Antenor _loved_ gossip. Ichigo kept that in mind every time he was near the little black-haired nurse.

"Hey … I'm not immune to an apple cinnamon danish," Ichigo said, tapping his pen on the table again.

"Uh-huh. I'll let that go … for now," Luppi said, grinning. He launched into report, checking his notes. "Patient's name is Szayel Aporro Grantz, aged 27, height 6'1", weight 165 pounds, allergic to Penicillin, Sulfa, and Aspirin. Came in to Karakura Gen ER via ambulance three weeks ago, unconscious due to unknown etiology. Here's where it gets ugly: labs showed thyroid hormone levels all over the place, and elevated sodium. Patient's body core body temp was 92.4 degrees Fahrenheit, he displayed lower body edema, and his family said he'd been 'acting strange' and having headaches. Several of the 'strange' episodes sounded a lot like seizures."

"Uh-oh," Ichigo said.

"Yeah. Diagnosis was myxedema coma due to long-term hypothyroidism. He's got the hair loss and skin symptoms, and the family said he'd put on a good 20 pounds over the past few months.

"Damn," Ichigo said. "It's already rare in the first place, but in a young male …."

"Yeah," Luppi said again. "So they did a couple scans and found out he had a pituitary tumor on the anterior lobe. Surgery was performed through the sphenoid sinus, considered successful. They've called in an endocrinologist to try to get his T3 and T4 thyroid hormone levels regulated and back to normal again. So far …" he shrugged.

"What do they think triggered the coma?" Ichigo asked.

"Self-medicating with oxycodone," Luppi said. "For one of his headaches."

Ichigo nodded. That'd do it. "They got a prognosis?"

"Well … I looked into it. It can take a month or longer just to get the thyroid levels regulated again. And the long-term functioning of the pituitary gland is still anybody's guess. So …." Luppi shrugged. Uncertainty came with the territory on 3C.

"How's his heart?" Ichigo asked.

"Hanging in there," Luppi said, showing Ichigo the latest EKG. "Here's the most recent labs, too. See T3? Crazy, huh?"

"Yeah." Ichigo looked them over. "He making urine all right?"

"He's on Lasix for the edema, so he's making plenty. Had an output of 1030 mLs on my shift alone. Next page has the history." He was leaning over, looking over Ichigo's shoulder at the chart. "The swelling in his face and neck has receded a lot, he's not yet got a trach, so he's been intubated since the pituitary surgery. Breathing's good. GI tract's moving okay."

"Good."

"Anyway, they're replacing T3 and T4, the endocrinologist is working it daily. Hopefully …."

"Yeah." Ichigo was still reading.

"Family … well … I'll just let you find that out on your own." Luppi grinned. "It's time for me to get outta here."

"Wait. Who's the doc?"

"Kuchiki."

Ichigo nodded.

"Any more questions, fatty?"

"Yeah … you gonna keep getting uglier or will that finally level out?" Ichigo grinned.

"Ugly! Me? Hah! I'm the cutest thing you've ever seen, asshole, and don't you ever fucking forget it." Luppi stood up and picked up his notebook. Then he grabbed Ichigo's danish and took a huge bite out of it.

"Heh!" Ichigo said, laughing.

"I deserve that, due to the trauma of your 'ugly' remark!" Luppi said, his voice muffled around danish.

Ichigo laughed some more. "Here, take it. Finish it." He held it out.

"Get thee behind me, Satan," Luppi said, and then grinned, waved goodbye, and hurried out of the lounge.

…

"Hello, Shinji," Ichigo said, leaning over the blond man, hand to his cheek. "You are lookin' good tonight … guess Shortie gave you the whole spa treatment." He smiled into Shinji's open eyes. "You know I love you, right?" he added, smiling into those beautiful brown eyes. He put a couple drops of artificial tears in them to keep them from drying out. "I'll be back in a bit, and get your CPM machines set up."

He walked around the tall screen to the next bed. This was not Ulquiorra's bed, this was the one that had been empty for the past month. A soft lamp glowed on the table next to the bed. Ichigo's eyes were immediately drawn to the man's hair: it was pink. A soft, bubble-gum pink. Shoulder-length, wispy, a bit on the brittle side at the moment but that was most likely due to his hormone problems. Ichigo walked up to the side of the bed and leaned over. The man's eyes were closed. "Szayel-san … I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, your nightshift nurse. I'm so sorry you are here." He checked the monitors quickly. Okay so far. "Look at that gorgeous pink hair," he said quietly, then chuckled. "We should start a club. Szayel-san, you and I are going to get along just fine." He brushed a strand of pale pink hair off Szayel's face.

There was a shuffling sound behind him, and Ichigo realized that someone had been sleeping on the couch. He turned and looked as a long muscular arm snaked out to reach for the small lamp on the table next to the couch. "Well … maybe I'll join this hair club, too," said a gruff _familiar_ voice. The light flicked on.

Mr. Sexy Blue Hair from Seireitei. Ichigo felt like he was about to pass out. His mouth hung open and his heart lurched in his chest.

Grimmjow stood up, revealing that he was shirtless, faded blue jeans hanging low on his hips. Ichigo could see two of his favorite things: those angled lines that delineated a buff man's lower abdomen, pointing like a sexy arrow to the male groin. Luscious. Grimmjow stretched, then scuffed over to Szayel's bedside. He looked at Ichigo over the supine unmoving form of the pink-haired male. Ichigo looked back at him, practically paralyzed with surprise.

"He's my brother," Grimmjow said in a low voice.

_You're at work. You're a professional. Act like it!_ Ichigo reprimanded and reminded himself. They didn't look like brothers, but that didn't mean anything. "I see," he said, his voice just as low. "I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, I'll be taking care of your brother during the week, midnights."

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques," the tall blue-haired man said. He raked a hand through his hair as he looked at Szayel, then he looked back at Ichigo, those incredible blue eyes locked on warm brown ones. "I knew I'd be seein' you again … but I sure didn't think it'd be like this."

Ichigo nodded. "I'm sorry your brother is here. But we'll take very good care of him. Dr. Kuchiki is very very skilled. Your brother's chances of recovery are better here than anywhere else in the country."

"I know. That's why I insisted he be brought here. And I'm glad it's Kuchiki and not Aizen." Grimmjow's lips sneered a bit when he said the doctor's name.

Ichigo forced himself to ignore it and concentrate on his job. He glanced down at Szayel. "How's he been this evening?"

"What do ya mean, how's he been?" Grimmjow practically snarled the words. "Fuckin' look at him!"

"Please keep your voice down," Ichigo said firmly. "We aren't alone here."

"What the fuck? These guys … they're not gonna … coma …." Grimmjow was sputtering.

"My room, my rules. Voices kept down. The unwritten rule in my room is that the assumption is that the patients can hear … whether they can react or not. Understood, Jaegerjaques-san?" Ichigo was proud of his firm but professional tone.

Grimmjow looked at him. He looked at Szayel … and noticed that Ichigo was holding his brother's hand, the other resting on Szayel's forearm comfortingly. "All right," he said finally. "Your rules."

"_Arigato_," Ichigo said. "Now, I have work to do for your brother. You may stay if you wish, but be advised that I will be talking with him – and Shinji-san - as the evening progresses. You're welcome to return to sleep on the couch, too … up to you, Jaegerjaques-san."

Grimmjow grunted in reply. He returned to the couch and sat down, taking out his phone and pressing buttons. Ichigo let out a silent sigh and turned back to his patient. "That's your brother, huh? The resemblance is amazing, you two could be twins," he said to Szayel, chuckling. He patted his cheek and re-did the tape on his ET tube, using paper tape that would be less irritating to the man's hormone-ravaged skin.

From the couch, Grimmjow watched and listened, his anxiety and fear partially soothed by Ichigo's caring, good-humored manner with Szayel. He spoke once more, as Ichigo finished getting Shinji's passive motion machines set up again. "Why? It's nighttime … why don't you let 'em, well … sleep?"

Ichigo smiled. "When you're in a coma, there is no night and day," he explained. He sat down to chart, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip.

"You get a break at all?" Grimmjow asked from the shadowy couch.

"Yes … in about a half-hour," Ichigo replied before thinking.

"I'm goin' with ya. And we're gonna talk … away from my brother." That deep slightly-husky voice. Ichigo stopped tapping on the keyboard, turning his head to glance over at the figure on the couch.

Great. Another talk. With another amazing-looking male he wouldn't mind getting to know better. But he was Szayel's brother. Ichigo frowned. Did that mean … he pondered the ethics of wanting to fu— er, get to know your patient's brother better. Shit. He'd have to ask Renji, much as he didn't want to. But if anybody knew about "relationships" with family members, it'd be the redhead.

"Of course, Jaegerjaques-san," he said out loud. "We can go get a cup of coffee."

XXX

**End Chapter 4**

**Thanks for reading! Finally putting things in motion here. Hope you enjoyed!**

**More soon! XD**

**Ahvienda**


	5. Chapter 5 Caring and Sharing

**Chapter 5 – Caring and Sharing**

**Continuing!**

**Warning! Sexual situations, sexual actions, multiple partners … yeah, man-on-man sex! Filthy language.**

**Me no own Bleach or any of its characters. Dammit.**

When Ichigo walked through the heavy steel door that led out onto the facility's roof, he elbowed it wide open, carefully managing the coffee cups in his hands. Looking straight ahead, he saw the outline of Mr. Sexy Bl- , er, Jaegerjaques-san outlined against the night lights of the city of Karakura. He walked up behind him. "Here … your coffee," he said as he joined the other man, who was leaning forward, elbows on the roughly waist-high concrete railing that completely surrounded the rooftop.

"Thanks," the other man grunted, accepting the coffee cup without turning.

Ichigo sipped his steaming hot coffee, looking out at the lights. He had a half-hour for break … 3C being very lenient in that regard, knowing that in this high-stress environment sufficient breaks were necessary to keep employee burnout at bay. The staff received two half-hour breaks and an hour for lunch each shift, and were encouraged to "get away" from their work area if at all possible. Ichigo, for one, spent a lot of his break time up on this roof. It was quiet, dark, and he usually had it all to himself.

The facility also recognized – without actually condoning it – that smoking was something that some of their staff wanted to do. On the roof, smoking was allowed. Bucking the trend that most hospitals were following, Karakura Chronic/Acute Care (KCAC) did not attempt to strong-arm their employees into smoking cessation and did not punish the ones who chose to use tobacco. Ichigo and the rest of the staff who smoked appreciated that, since such tactics smacked of being treated like a wayward child. What he did with his own body, on his own time, was his own business. Period. He lit up … then remembered his manners and offered a cigarette to the blue-haired man to his right.

"Thanks," he said again, taking the offered cigarette out of Ichigo's pack. He accepted a light and inhaled deeply, then exhaled a long steady stream of smoke. Ichigo stared at his face as the coal flared during another inhale. His features were strong but not heavy: a smooth forehead, highlighted by arching blue eyebrows (at the moment furled in a slight frown) … a straight aquiline nose … rather thin but well-formed lips … strong jaw lines. In the flickering light his eyes were a dark fathomless blue, looking almost purple. But his best features by far were that amazing hair – again a riot of messy spikes and long sideburns that suited him _so_ well – and, Ichigo remembered it perfectly … that _grin_. He wished he could see it again. It was gleeful, almost manic, promising everything from little-boy naughtiness to absolutely sinful adult delights.

He looked away. They stood there, a couple of guys having a smoke/coffee break, looking at the sleeping city and the timeless beauty of the universe spreading out over their heads, both men silent under the weight of their own thoughts.

_Grimmjow _had_ left Seireitei alone on Friday night. He'd gotten off in the alley during that fucked-up little threesome (how long since he'd done something like _that_, fer fuck's sake?), and then after that just couldn't scrape up enough interest in anyone or anything inside the goddamn place. He'd watched Ichigo for a while, noting the sexy undercurrent between the orange-haired man and the serious black-haired man next to him at the table … but he never had another chance to get the little shit alone. Grimm didn't want to approach the table and have to go through the bullshit of meeting his friends or any of that crap. Didn't think he could handle being "sociable" at the moment – although he'd thought for a second or two about teaching the tattooed redhead at the table a thing or two about fuckin' bottoming._

_So after yet another drunk half-naked bitch had tried to feel him up at the bar, he'd called it quits and left, heading back to Szayel's house alone – which was fine. The only person he wanted with him at Szayel's house at the moment was _Szayel_! But his brother was at Karakura General, awaiting transfer on Sunday to Karakura Chronic/Acute Care's Coma Care Center. Shit. He couldn't believe it, even still. His brother. In a fucking coma! From which it was possible he might never awaken? What the FUCK._

_It was obvious, over the past several months, that something was going on with Szayel. He'd just looked unhealthy, it was hard to put your finger on exactly what it was … but he looked fuckin' _old_ somehow. He'd packed on some pounds, his hair and skin looked like crap, and he'd finally 'fessed up to Grimm (on Skype one night) that he was sleeping about 15 hours a day. He got headaches that made him want to scream. Grimmjow – who hated hospitals and doctors in particular, the officious pricks – had actually urged his brother to _go_ to the doctor. Szayel had said he'd make an appointment maybe, but that he had researched his 'problem' and was going to go to an herbalist first._

_Grimm had only sighed in exasperated response. Sometimes Szayel was too smart – too educated – for his own good. Grimmjow hadn't tried to coerce his brother into skipping the herbalist and heading straight for the CAT scans and advanced medicine a doctor could hook him up with … because he'd known that Szayel would look at him, fondly but with lofty amusement, and assure Grimm that he knew what he was doing. He regretted that now, bitterly – he should have shouted, cursed, _forced_ the man to go to the hospital._

_And look at him now. _Zay, did yer herbalist have somethin' to zap that tumor off yer pituitary gland?_ Not fucking hardly. The pink-haired asshole, would he EVER listen to Grimmjow? Ever? He had run his fingers through his hair, fighting the urge to smash everything in Szayel's living room to splinters, shaking with anger and frustration. 'Helplessness' was not a feeling that sat well in Grimmjow Jaegerjaques' gut. _

_Instead, he'd gone for the liquor cabinet._

_Two tumblers of Jack Daniels later, he was sitting forward on the edge of the couch, looking into the flames of a roaring fire he'd started in Szayel's hearth. Fuck. He wanted to go to the hospital, but he could barely stand seeing his brother in that shithole. Karakura General Medical Center was old and musty … Grimm didn't even want to _think_ what kinds of nasty life forms were hatching in the cracks in the walls of an ancient fucking wreck like KGMC. He couldn't wait to get his brother out of there. The facility he was moving to, 3C, had a fantastic rep, as did Karakura Chronic/Acute Care. Money didn't matter. One way or the other, Szayel had to wake up! He was the only sibling Grimmjow had, and he damn sure wasn't losing him!_

_When Grimmjow was 5 and Szayel was 7, Zay's dad had married Grimm's mom. Small at that age and already shy due to the reactions he'd get about his hair, Grimmjow had hidden behind his Mama's legs, clutching her skirt, and peeked at the other boy at their first meeting. He was taller, he had pretty pink hair – like a Pokemon or somethin'! – and he wasn't staring at _Grimm's_ hair like he was weird or scary._

"_Somethin' wrong, dude?" Szayel had asked, bending to the side to look around Mama's legs. Grimm buried his face in her skirt and shook his head. "Well, c'mon then. Hear that? It's th'ice cream truck. Let's go get some!" Before he knew it, he was racing after his new brother, being pulled by the hand, yen burning a hole in his pocket. Szayel had let _him_ carry the money. _

_It had practically been love at first sight. They were inseparable after that … except for times when Grimmjow was still in grade school and Zay had moved on to middle school, stuff like that. But Zay had the patience of a saint (something Grimm definitely lacked), an astounding intellect, and the willingness to explain everything a curious younger brother wanted to know. Grimm had idolized him, he'd loved him more than anyone in the world. Even when Szayel became a teenager, he still didn't try to ditch Grimmjow or lock him out of his room (well … not much, anyway. A guy's gotta have his privacy after he discovers his dick!) They were brothers, he said. That superseded everything – and then he'd explained what 'superseded' meant. Grimmjow had absolutely worshipped him. _

_The problem had come one summer night when Szayel had unexpectedly returned home and caught Grimmjow in the back yard with one of Zay's friends. They were 'doing it', the older teen's dick buried in Grimm's ass to the hilt, the blue-haired boy leaning back against a tree with one leg cocked up, holding on for dear life and moaning with pleasure as Zay's friend thrusted inside him. It had been made grossly apparent that Szayel had been almost maniacally homophobic (it had only been later that Grimm had found out what was _really_ going on). He had completely freaked out, screaming at the two of them – he'd beaten his now-former friend, Tomo, to within an inch of his life for "raping his little brother". When Grimm had explained that it most certainly was _not_ rape, that had cemented a breach that had lasted for five years. Grimmjow was heartbroken, lost without his brother._

_The end of the breach had come about just as dramatically. Grimm was out of high school and in college, Szayel had already graduated one university magna cum laude and was enrolled in a master's program in Tokyo. On a return home to Karakura, he'd met Grimm's boyfriend, a small feminine-looking boy of 17, shy and cute, who looked at Grimmjow with evident adoration whenever the now-tall and muscular blue-haired male was within sight. Szayel had been a sarcastic shit, treating the little guy with disdain and speaking to him with caustic sneers. Grimm had objected, sent his little boyfriend scampering to safety, words had escalated to blows, and the fight was on._

_What Zay hadn't realized was that Grimm had grown up … and he'd lost the fight dramatically. He'd ended up pinned underneath his 'little brother', staring up into frowning blue eyes. "Fuckin' stop it, Zay … what the fuck … stop it, you shit!" _

"_Get … get offa me!" Szayel struggled fruitlessly against the larger male holding him down. But there was a part of him that was definitely _not_ down. Face bright red, Zay pushed at Grimm's shoulders. "Get off, Grimm!"_

_Feeling that hard length pressing up against him, Grimm had looked down, then the anger melted away just like that. "Szayel," he'd begun, quietly, holding very still but keeping his older brother underneath him._

_Zay had groaned wordlessly in reply, sweat breaking out on his upper lip, and his hips bucked uncontrollably upwards against Grimm's._

"_Szayel, I love you, dammit," Grimm had said quietly. "Is this why …?"_

"_Grimm," Zay had moaned, helplessly. "No, please … ah, gods …. It's you … it's always been you … please, let me go. _Please_." But his arms were now wrapped tightly around Grimmjow's shoulders, trembling, giving the lie to his words._

_Instead of letting go, Grimmjow bent down and kissed Zay's cheek softly. With a guttural groan, Szayel's body had thrummed under his, he'd turned his head and licked Grimm's lips, gasping, hips grinding against his little brother's … unbearably excited now, Grimmjow had pulled his brother up and onto his lap and kissed him with abandon, all lips and teeth and tongue, feeling those long arms wrap around him fiercely, feeling his brother shake with desire in his lap._

"_No … no Grimm, no …." His body was more honest, though, as Szayel had a blazing orgasm within moments, just from being in his beloved brother's lap and kissing him, oh gods, kissing him and being kissed, how long had he fantasized about this? How fucking long?_

_Grimm had held him after, stroking that vibrant pink hair, letting him calm down on his lap, murmuring softly in his ear. "It's all right … it's okay, yeah? Zay … it's all right."_

_His dick had softened somewhat in his pants as Szayel had begun to cry, sobbing in his arms. "Grimm … Grimm …." Over and over. "I – I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

"_I said it's okay, Zay. Don't cry, man," Grimmjow held on tight._

"_I couldn't tell ya," Zay whispered. "I just couldn't. And … and when I caught you with Tomo, I thought I'd fucking die. That bastard was taking what was _mine_ … I wanted to kill him."_

"_You almost did," Grimm had said, petting his brother's hair._

"_After that I … I couldn't face you. I felt so dirty, wanting to be _boned by my little brother_, how fucked-up is _that_?" Zay's face was buried in Grimmjow's neck, his hot breath gusted out, tickling … and suddenly Grimm's teenaged libido was up in arms again. Zay stiffened as "Little Grimm" stiffened beneath his buttocks._

"_Zay …" Grimmjow groaned, turning his head to kiss his brother's chin, his jaw, to take a soft earlobe in between his teeth and suckle it._

"_Grimmjow … don't. We can't! I …." He was stiffly upright, back arched, arms still around Grimm's shoulders and neck. His breathing began to speed up._

"_Then just once, Zay … okay? Let's do it just once, and then we'll never bring it up again, if that's what you want. Yeah?" He whispered this into Szayel's ear, then licked it._

_Zay's body gave a violent shudder as he pressed himself closer still, his head falling back on his neck, eyes closed. Grimm felt his cock harden in his pants and took that for a tacit 'yes'. He dropped his hands to Szayel's hips and held him steady as he ground his hardness up against him. After about a minute he unzipped Zay's jeans, taking his dick in hand as it sprang out to meet him. Zay shouted as Grimm's fingers touched him._

_It was short work to get both their pants off, and settle once again with Szayel on his lap. He'd taken his brother's virginity that night, then done it twice more, his offer about doing it just once forgotten in the heat of passion. That feeling … of sex with LOVE … gods, it was amazing, it was better than anything ever, it was the _best_. Grimmjow had fallen for his brother all over again, hard. _

_The next morning, it was time for seriousness. Zay had kissed him, for the last time, he said … and they'd agreed (very reluctantly on Grimmjow's part) it could never happen again._

_But two weeks later, Grimmjow and Szayel had been alone in the house for a weekend – their parents gone to a conference in Nagasaki. Grimm could no longer resist needing that sensation – _sex with love_ – and had been parading around shirtless in unzipped jeans in front of his brother, tempting him, taunting him gently, touching him at various unguarded moments, giving him long steamy looks._

_The sex was amazing. _

_Thus had begun a year-long affair, one that had eaten Szayel up alive with every tryst. He tried to resist, but when they were alone together he couldn't stop his brother's advances. He just couldn't. Every time he "broke his word", every time he caved and let Grimm's tongue slide into his mouth as his cock slid into his ass, he suffered intensely. The guilt was too much for him. He attempted suicide._

_After that, Grimmjow moved to Germany, moving in with his mother's family. He knew he'd have to get away from Szayel, he couldn't resist him when they were together all the time. The strategy had worked, after a while. Zay had recovered from the overdose, they'd slowly begun to speak over the phone, things like that … and they'd never mentioned a physical relationship again. In the intervening years, the breach had completely healed. Their intimate past had become like a comforting anchor, more than a torturous memory, and they were closer than ever now – as brothers, nothing more._

_Then two weeks ago? Three? – they'd been Skyping on the computer again, Grimm in Germany and Szayel home at their parent's house in Karakura for the night. Zay had looked horrible – one eye was a blazing brilliant red, so bloodshot that it looked to be unrelieved red around the honey-colored iris. He was in pain from another headache, he said, and took what looked like a handful of pills as Grimmjow watched, alarmed, thousands of miles away. When he'd slumped over the keyboard after about 20 minutes, Grimm had phoned his parents, frantic. He watched, helplessly, as his parents tried to revive Zay, then there was the ambulance and EMT crews … the phone call from the hospital … and Grimm was on a plane for Karakura, after taking leave from his company and putting everything in the capable hands of his cousin, Neliel._

_So. Here we fucking are._

Ichigo respected his break partner's apparent need for silent reflection, smoking and sipping coffee … offering another cigarette to the man, which he took with another quiet "thanks".

"What," Grimmjow began, clearing his throat and then starting again, "What do you think's gonna happen with my brother?" He glanced over at the orange-haired nurse as he leaned against the concrete balustrade.

"I hate to have to say this, but at this point, I don't know," Ichigo softly replied. "Nobody knows. We'll treat his thyroid levels, cleanse the oxycodone and the other drugs out of his system," here he looked at Grimmjow apologetically – the man hadn't known that his brother had been abusing other drugs as well, trying to feel better, "and keep an eye on his pituitary hormones. We'll take good care of him and keep him in shape for when he wakes up. That's all we can do right now."

"'For when he wakes up.'" Grimmjow repeated. "Ya sound pretty sure of that." He squinted at Ichigo through smoke.

"It's the only way I can think about it," Ichigo said, not looking back, taking a hit off his smoke.

Silence for a bit, then …. "So that other guy in there. I know ya can't talk about him too much, but, uh … he yer boyfriend or somethin'?" Grimmjow kept his blue eyes locked on the other male's face.

Ichigo shook his head.

Grimm _knew_ he'd heard the oranget tell the blond in the first bed "I love you" when he came on shift. What the fuck was that about? But he didn't press it. Instead he flicked the coal off his cigarette and tossed it into a nearby standing ashtray. He looked up into the starry sky and took another hit of coffee. One thing you could count on nurses for: they knew where to get great coffee.

…

_Ichigo had awakened late Sunday night and slowly had come to full awareness. Starrk was once again pressed up close against Ichigo, one arm draped across Ichigo's abdomen, one leg flung over him. Gin was on Ichigo's other side – holy shit – and was similarly wrapped around him. It was like they were trying to hold each other and Ichigo had somehow gotten trapped between them. Heat rose in his cheeks as he realized he had a "morning" wood of epic proportions. Dammit! What in the fuck was he gonna do now? Work was two and a half hours away, but he would've liked to get up, make coffee, have a shower, have breakfast, catch up on the news, stuff like that. But here he was, with a raging boner, locked in between two hot men. _

_And now he had a fucking tickle in his throat. His eyes watered uncontrollably as he fought to contain it without clearing his throat or coughing. _Too bad_, his body stated in no uncertain terms, as he lost the battle and had to clear his throat, which then made him cough a couple times._

_Gin stirred on his left, moving in closer and stretching out his arm to pet Starrk's hair. His breath gusted out onto Ichigo's neck. Then Ichigo felt it … unmistakably, Gin's own wake-up erection pressed insistently against Ichigo's hip. He swallowed hard._

"_Good morning, Kurosaki-kun," the silver-haired man murmured quietly. "Starrk-san still sleeping … what are the chances of that?" he teased, chuckling softly._

"_G-good morning, Gin-san," Ichigo replied quietly, softly clearing his throat again. "This is … normal for him when he's here. He could possibly sleep all night and still be asleep when I get home in the morning. That is, if you guys decide to stay." He shifted a bit, trying to move unobtrusively away from that hardness poking his hip – but only succeeded in rubbing against it. Shit._

_Gin was quiet for a moment, then said, smile in his voice, "We are going to do what he wants to do. Like always. I can never refuse him anything."_

"_That's sweet," a gravelly voice came from Ichigo's right. Starrk. He stirred, pressing himself in closer, reaching for Gin, and if Ichigo was embarrassingly aware of Gin's dick on his left? – it was nothing compared to the heat that flushed through him as what felt like a gigantic cock pressed against his thigh from the right. Holy fuck. He'd forgotten how big Starrk was. It had to be over ten inches when erect, the man was hung like a, yeah … a horse. _

"_Hold still, Starrk, baby," Gin said, voice muffled against Ichigo's neck. "Kurosaki-kun has a morning wood, you are torturing him." In direct contradiction to his own words, he shifted against Ichigo, too, squeezing him tightly._

"_Can't help it," Starrk murmured. "Feels good." Sliiiide._

_Ichigo cleared his throat, his own erection painful now, beginning to wonder if he should have himself checked by an endocrinologist to see if he was releasing dangerous pheromones. When a hand slid under the covers and touched his cock, he startled dramatically, gasping._

"_Ichigo?" Starrk inquired … it was his hand. He pressed against Ichigo's cock and began rubbing it, lightly but insistently, still sliding his dick against the lucky pj's on Ichigo's thigh. _

"_Uh …" Ichigo could think of nothing to say. He couldn't think at all! This was … this was … this was so fucking HOT!_

"_Gin … Ichigo deserves our thanks, ne? For his devoted care of me, all this time," Starrk said, lifting his head to look at his fiancé. Solid in his relationship with the silveret, knowing his kinks, knowing that Gin was good with it. He grinned at him, eyes half-lidded but twinkling merrily._

"_Yes, baby," Gin replied, grinning back, and kissed Ichigo's neck, nibbling his way down to the clavicle, sucking it. He slid his hand under the covers, too, and pulled down the pajama bottoms to cup Ichigo's balls, caressing and rolling them gently._

"_G-guys? …" Ichigo began, feeling himself shake with full-on desire._

"_Mmm," Starrk said, sticking out his tongue to lick a hard nipple. Ichigo twitched, then shuddered when Starrk sealed his lips around it and began to suckle, humming with pleasure._

_Gin did the same thing on the other side._

Oh. My. Fucking Gods_, Ichigo thought. Am I dreaming? What the fuck? He felt a deep flutter of pleasure in his pelvis as both his nipples were sucked at the same time._

"_Ichigo … we won't use our dicks on anyone but each other … but we can definitely make you feel good," Starrk murmured, wrapping his fingers around Ichigo's cock and starting up a sweet rhythm with his hot tight hand. His mouth returned to Ichigo's nipple, nipping it sharply, then sucking again._

"_Mah," Gin added, "you like it in the ass, ne? Here …." He slid his fingers through Ichigo's pre-seminal fluid and then back down to circle one twitching, desirous hole. He slid one long finger in, sliding it in and out, matching Starrk's rhythm. Ichigo gasped, arching his hips off the bed. "Good, ne?" He bit Ichigo's left nipple, gnawing on it almost-viciously, hurting but hurting _good_. _

"_Ah!" Ichigo's eyes were squeezed shut, his heart was pounding in his chest, his toes were curled. What that man could do to a nipple! Jesus Christ!_

_On the other side, Starrk was licking, flat-tongued, over and over, like a cat cleaning its fur. Hot, wet, rough against the sensitive flesh, Ichigo was quickly being propelled toward a massive orgasm._

"_He's on his way," Starrk said, between licks._

"_Mm-hmm," Gin replied, sucking as he held that luscious nipple trapped between his teeth._

"_Ya wanna?" Starrk asked, shifting on the bed._

"_Definitely," Gin replied, also shifting._

_And in two seconds, Ichigo found himself being licked and sucked by two handsome men, his cock hard and throbbing with the attention. They were fisting each other's erections as they "showed gratitude" by giving Ichigo the most memorable blow job of his life. He couldn't help but watch – up on his elbows, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire, open-mouthed and gasping … what a sight._

_Silver hair, brown hair. Handsome men, their long tongues licking up both sides of Ichigo's cock, slurping up his drooling pre-cum, kissing it, pampering it, nibbling and sucking. When he got too close, they stopped and licked each other's faces, kissed sloppily as they worked each other's cocks – it was so hot to watch! Ichigo's breath caught in his throat, eyes wide open now. When he calmed down again they went back to loving his dick, licking and kissing and sucking … gods! The bastards brought him to the edge what felt like countless times, but was really more like 5 or so. _

"_Please! Jesus, Starrk … Gin-san, please … I—" Ichigo was stammering, stuttering, red-faced and wanton, trembling and writhing on the bed. The pj's were off now, his erection was purple and hard as a rock, weeping non-stop … it would be pressed tightly up against his abdomen if Gin hadn't been holding it upright._

"_You close?" Gin asked Starrk, stroking his lover's amazingly long beautiful cock._

"_Mmm," Starrk replied around Ichigo's dick, sucking the head._

"_Should we let him?" Gin's voice was muffled as he nibbled the base of Ichigo's member._

"_Mm-hmm," Starrk hummed, letting Ichigo's dick sliiiide down his throat for the first time._

_Gin knelt, one hand on Starrk's cock. With the other he once again slid his fingers into Ichigo's twitching hole, roughly, in and out in a punishing rhythm. He finger-fucked Ichigo and leaned in to lick Starrk's cheek until he came off Ichigo's dick. "Watch, Kurosaki-kun," Gin murmured, grinning … then both of them took turns licking up Ichigo's cock, sucking the head, alternately, like a double-speed blowjob, hot wet mouths and writhing tongues, nipping teeth._

_Ichigo lost it. He lost it! He was moaning, thrashing, shaking from head to toe, matching the rhythm of Gin's fingers with his hips, ah gods it was good, so good! He shouted as much, "More! Gin-san … m-more! Ah please, s'good! So good!"_

_Did Gin-san fist him? It felt like it but he couldn't see. The pounding he was taking, the mouths on his cock, the view! Two gorgeous naked men, stroking each other off as they sucked him …._

_It was one of the most violently awesome orgasms Ichigo had EVER had. He came forever, it seemed, spurting his cum onto those two tongues, watching as they lapped it up, watching _them_ come, too. "GOD! FUCK Fuck fuck FUCK!" Ichigo screamed, body tight as steel, pleasure seeming to tear him in half. "Yes! Ah! AH! YES!"_

…

He blushed now, recalling it. Had that just been a few hours ago? Christ. Right now, Starrk and Gin-san were probably asleep in Ichigo's bed. But earlier they had gotten up with him and had breakfast with him, feeding him like he was a prized pet or petted little sister, cooing over him … it was something totally outside Ichigo's experience, to be the one _taken care of_. He discovered that … well … he liked it. He'd been one big blush, something that had caused them to pet him even more, kissing his cheeks and playing with his hair. Jesus Christ.

Gin had made him a bento, they'd all showered together … that was an experience all its own. No sex at first, just tlc … they'd washed him as Starrk related the story of how Ichigo had cared for him while Kira was on 3C. Ichigo's boner had sprang back up as he was soaped … so Starrk had fisted his erection as Gin had once again fingered his backside. He'd returned the favor, leaning half against the shower wall, he'd fisted both their erections. God damn, Starrk had a long gorgeous dick. And Gin-san's wasn't anything to be ashamed of, either.

He didn't think he'd be able to come again so soon, but it wasn't long before he was gasping under the hot spray, Starrk's lips on his and Gin's mouth on the back of his neck. Damn. Those two. Amazing. A grateful happy Starrk was … a very _generous_ man. Ichigo's lips twitched into a smile as the thought crossed his mind.

"_If you guys need to go while I'm at work … that's okay," Ichigo had said. "Or you can sleep again, it's up to you both. Really. But just in case: it was great to see you again, Starrk … and very nice to meet you, Gin-san," he'd blushed up at the silver-haired man's grin. They'd petted him some more, kissed him out the door, and were in each other's arms before the door shut completely. Ichigo had heard, as he turned his key in the lock: "He's so cute!" A thump against the door as a body was pushed up against it. Gin's barely audible growl, muffled: "Mah - let's take him home with us." Ichigo had left for work with a smile on his face._

He came back to himself to find that Jaegerjaques-san was watching him, and that grin was fully evident under the starry sky and the soft, muted rooftop lighting. "Whatever it was ya was thinkin' about, it musta been good," the blue-haired man said, his voice low and rough.

"Ah," Ichigo said, hoping the light was dim enough to hide the color he could feel rushing up his neck, "I had a visit from an old friend yesterday. Been a while since I've seen 'im." The grin was … insane. If the man had giggled maniacally and began chasing invisible bunnies around the roof, Ichigo wouldn't have been surprised. But he stood there, leaning indolently against the concrete sidewall, all muscles and long lean male beauty.

Grimmjow's blue eyes raked over Ichigo from head to toe as he sucked his teeth. "How much time ya got left on yer break?" he asked, the roughness in his voice making goose bumps race up Ichigo's spine.

Ichigo shook himself internally and checked his watch. "Gotta be back in ten," he said, looking back at Jaegerjaques-san. "Want another smoke?"

"Sure," he replied. They lit up, inhaled, exhaled. "So … what's the story with you and that Dr. Aizen? And wasn't that a very _relaxed_ Dr. Kuchiki you were pawin' at the table Friday night? You got a fuckin' doctor fetish or somethin'?"

"Hey," Ichigo began, frowning. "I wasn't pawing him, and no, I don't have a doctor fetish." Well … maybe for one certain doctor.

The blue-haired male moved a step closer. "Well … what kinda fetish _do_ ya have? I'm easy," he said, and turned that grin on again. It promised … _everything_.

Ichigo frowned and mentally told his dick to stay _down, boy, down_! "First of all … Dr. Aizen is a very skilled doctor and is my boss—"

"Yeah, I gathered that. You said as much, when he was suckin' yer cock." Grin.

"I said that _after_ …." Shit. Ichigo ran a hand through his hair, scrambling the already-messy spikes. "Look …."

"Oh, I'm lookin'. I _been_ lookin'. Haven't ya noticed?" Another step closer, a further amping up of that insane smile.

_D-down, boy. Please stay down_. Getting a woody in scrubs was _bad_. And where was this energy coming from? He'd been pleasured at home – and how! – but then he'd reacted so intensely when Kuchiki-sensei had plundered his mouth in the locker room … and now with just _words_ and a smile this man was turning him on like nobody's business. There had to be something wrong with him! "Stop, okay? Dr. Aizen took advantage. I – I don't like him, not like that."

"I gathered that, too," Grimmjow responded. "But unwilling sex is kinda hot sometimes, doncha think so? Well, I know ya do. A surprise bj in the alley from yer boss … damn, that's a fuckin' turn-on, y'know?"

Frowning angrily, Ichigo's treacherous mouth opened and the words spilled out before he could censor himself. "It was _you_, goddammit! I saw you and – shit!" More hand-raking through hair. Then strong arms were around him like steel bands, pulling him tightly against hard muscles and bulging jeans.

"I knew it. Ya want me," the other male growled. He pressed his hardness against Ichigo's lower abdomen. "I want you, too. I watched ya all night. I like the way ya look, fuckin' toldja that … I like the way ya move … I liked the way you _came_ … all spread out against the wall and starin' at me while another fuckin' man sucked yer dick."

Ichigo couldn't move, held captive by strong arms, sensation, and that voice in his ear.

"I want you, _Kurosaki-kun_," he crooned Ichigo's name. Strong fingers slid into Ichigo's hair and grabbed hold, pulling his head back. The oranget was frozen in place – by surprise? Who cared. Grimmjow wanted that mouth.

Lips, surprisingly gentle, glided onto Ichigo's, kissing intently, the blue eyes closed, all his concentration centered on pleasuring Ichigo's mouth. He was skilled – very. A hand crept up to cup the side of his face, stroking his cheek as a warm wet tongue prodded gently at his lips until they parted, then slid inside, learning his taste and his feel. Ighigo moaned. He'd always been a sucker for a good kisser. He _loved_ kissing and considered it to be the most intimate of acts between two people. He responded without thought, sliding his tongue under the other man's, his arms coming up to twine around Grimmjow's neck. The kiss deepened, although it was still basically gentle … soft, sweet, _perfect_. Timeless.

Ichigo's wristwatch alarm went off. His eyes sprang open as their lips parted. They'd been kissing for … almost ten minutes? What the fuck?

"If ya could see how ya look right now …" Grimmjow murmured, his voice low and rough, still holding him tightly. Ichigo had high color in his cheeks, his eyes were heavy-lidded, the pupils dilated, lips wet and red from kissing, breath deep and rapid, gusting from between _those lips_. "Yer beautiful."

Ichigo freed himself with slight difficulty and turned off his one-minute-warning alarm. "I … I gotta go back. Ishida's waiting." He sounded hoarse.

"Okay," the other man replied, reluctantly stepping away a pace. He rearranged himself inside his jeans, grimacing a bit. Shit, he was hard as a fucking steel pole. He tugged on the waistband of his jeans, pulling up a bit. Sometimes, when he got _this_ hard, the head poked up and out. Kinda embarrassing in company.

Ichigo's scrubs were tented. _Great_. Just great. He sucked down coffee, thinking of gross stuff like brussel's sprouts and belly-button goo. He looked at Jaegerjaques-san, found that tactic contraindicated for hard-on suppression, and began walking slowly back towards the roof door. "You coming …" blush. "Er … you heading back down too?" He knew he'd see that grin if he looked at the other male again, so he didn't.

But Grimmjow wasn't grinning. He was looking intently at Ichigo from the back, furiously wondering why he hadn't taken it further while he had the chance. He'd had ten minutes, that was plenty of time for a quickie (although not the best-case scenario, beggars couldn't be choosers, yeah?) – why had he just kept kissing, unaware of the time passing? If he was gonna capture this man and take him away from those fucking doctors, he'd need to move quickly, imprint himself on the oranget and make him aware that he was _Grimmjow's and no-one else's_.

Wait … what?

He cleared his throat. "Uh … I'll be back down in a minute. Take care of my brother, yo?"

"Always," Ichigo replied, and meant it, although Jaegerjaques-san couldn't know the extent to which Ichigo was referring. And then he was through the door and pounding down the stairs.

…

"Thanks, Uryuu," he said quietly, receiving report upon his return. Both his patients were fine, at least as fine as they could be, ventilators whooshing softly next to their beds. After Ishida left, Ichigo went to Shinji and took his legs out of the CPM machines, stretching them, doing range of motion, pushing the comatose male's knees up to his belly and holding it, then stretching his legs out again, over and over. He spoke to him lovingly as he worked. "Can you believe it, Shin? – Starrk is here again, and he brought his fiancé with him. He's … quite a guy." He wouldn't talk about sex to Shinji … what if he was laying there all fired up and couldn't do anything about it? So he skirted around the issue, like he always did. "They're two affectionate guys, that's for sure." He caught Shinji up on all the day's business, working over his arms, then turning him onto his right side afterward. "There you go, love," he whispered. "I'll be back in a bit … just going to go take care of Szayel-san for a bit." He kissed Shin's cheek softly.

Ishida had started the pink-haired male's parenteral nutrition, which was feeding down a tube into Szayel's stomach through his nose. He'd not yet get a tube through his abdomen like Shinji's … that would come later, if it became apparent that he'd not be waking any time soon. Ichigo checked the rate the white, slightly thick liquid was feeding into Szayel's stomach and was satisfied. He checked the foley catheter bag and logged the amount of urine in it, then began to stretch and massage the tall man's right arm. "Szayel-san," he said softly, "remember me? It's Ichigo. You may have heard me earlier, talking to another in the room. That's Shinji-san … he's been here a long time."

The memory of Shinji's mother mentioning removing Shin's vent … but he hadn't heard anything more about it since, and didn't want to think about it now.

As he was massaging Szayel's other arm, Jaegerjaques-san came back into the room. He went straight for his brother's bed, looking down at him while Ichigo continued massaging the unconscious man's left arm, working the muscles, working the arm and hand.

"No change, I see," Grimmjow muttered, staring down at the once-vibrant pink-haired man.

"Nope. But don't worry … we'll keep him in top shape until he wakes up." Ichigo looked down at Szayel and smiled. "How about that, Szayel-san?" He patted his left cheek. "No worries. Just rest and get better. We'll be here to take care of you until you want to wake up." Ichigo had turned up the heat in the room while the covers were off his patients, and now he was sweating a bit. But he didn't stop. He moved to the foot of the bed and pushed the covers up off Szayel's legs, then began massaging them.

Grimmjow watched, a part of him feeling strangely … envious … of the oranget's hands on his brother's legs. His strong fingers moving rhythmically … he would bet it felt _fantastic_. Well, apparently it did, because it became increasingly obvious that his brother was sporting a cheerful boner. Ichigo was working on Szayel's thighs, and continued the massage, ignoring his patient's hard-on.

"Er … is that, uh …" Grimmjow began.

"Yep," Ichigo said, having pity on him. "Totally normal."

"Okay," Grimm returned. Whoa. "Is, uh … is it a good sign?"

"Yes, in fact. It shows that he can still sense things, even though he 'sleeps'," Ichigo replied. "A massage feels good, and when males feel good … well, _you_ know."

"That I do," Grimmjow growled, a bit unable to take his eyes off the tented blankets. There was a time when he knew that erection intimately. Very. He swallowed hard past a sudden lump in his throat.

_Szayel … brother … wake up. Please._

XXX

**End Chapter 5!**

**Well well well. Ze plot thickens, ne?**

**There were some reviewers/pm-ers who were interested in a furtherance of the Starrk/Gin/Ichigo story … so I had pity on them. Hehe Hope you all liked it! XD**

**Thanks for reading, more to come soon! Yep-yep!**

**Ahvienda**


	6. Chapter 6 Emotional Connections

**Chapter 6 – Emotional Connections**

**Continuing on …**

**Warnings: yaoi, foul language, adult situations**

**I most certainly do **_**not**_** own Bleach or any of its characters.**

Ichigo finished massaging Szayel-san's legs and then put his limbs through the same range-of-motion exercises he'd performed on Shinji. Of course, since Szayel had only recently succumbed to coma, his muscles were still very supple. The exercises went quickly.

"He's not as muscular as he usedta be," Grimmjow said, looking on. "Since he started getting sicker, he quit workin' out and was sleepin' way too much."

Ichigo nodded.

As Grimmjow watched, he noted that his brother's state of arousal didn't change one little bit. The orange-haired nurse continued talking to Szayel about nonsensical things – current events, news of the day, a car he liked a lot but couldn't afford – keeping Grimm in the conversation, too, although he never worded questions or statements that would make the blue-haired male speak to his brother _directly_. Finally, Grimmjow couldn't hold back any longer. "Hey," he said, leaning back casually in the chair next to Zay's bed and gesturing at the comatose man's dick, "you ever, uh … y'know … get'em off? Like, _relieve_ 'em?"

Ichigo shot him a look, but held his tongue. He pulled the blankets back up onto Szayel, smoothing them and patting his shoulder. Then he put his hands on his hips and turned to face the bluenet. "Jaegerjaques-san, there's a name for what you just suggested. It's called 'assault'. In direct answer to your question – no. I don't," he said, firmly, holding his temper at bay.

_At least, you don't while they're _here_. Right? _Ichigo turned to check on Shinji's condition, then went back over to his desk to chart. No reason to bring any of _that_ up.

Grimmjow watched him go, then turned back to his brother. It had seemed to him like a viable question. If _he_ had been in a coma and a hot nurse like Ichigo had massaged him into a raging boner, _he'd_ want relief! Fuck yeah! Rather than lay there with a flagpole fuckin' tenting the sheets, itchin' to come. Then Grimm rubbed his jaw, considering it. It would definitely fall under the classification of a 'stimulus', wouldn't it? An … incentive to wake up? He gave a rueful smile as he looked at Zay's face. He looked very peaceful, and –

"Jaegerjaques-san … may we speak?" Ichigo said, turning around in the chair at the nurse's desk.

Grimmjow ambled over, sinfully gorgeous in the battered jeans. Bare chest, bare feet – Ichigo turned back around and accessed his email quickly, swallowing. Christ. He'd never seen perfection like that in real life. Seriously. Fucking beautiful.

"'Sup?" Grimmjow said as he approached, then leaned against the wall next to the desk, long legs crossed, hands in his jeans pockets.

"You are next of kin for Szayel-san, his legal advocate … there is a procedure Dr. Kuchiki wishes to perform, and I am to explain it to you and get your consent … if you decide to go ahead with it, I mean."

Grimmjow frowned, looking down at him. "No fucking trach."

"That's not what I'm talking about. You see—"

"And no fucking feeding tube through his goddamned stomach." Both of those things … they meant … they fucking meant that Szayel wasn't fucking waking up. That he was gonna lay there and _rot_. Fuck NO.

"Please," Ichigo said, holding up a hand. "We're not at that point. I'm not saying it won't happen … but we're not there yet. What Dr. Kuchiki wants to do is actually good news, if it works. Will you listen? Or Dr. Kuchiki will explain it in the morning and if you wish to continue, you can sign the consent then."

"I'm listenin'," Grimmjow said, frown still in place.

"Szayel-san has had the endotracheal tube in for three weeks, going on four. Dr. Kuchiki thinks he might be able to go without it, and doesn't want your brother to get too used to the respiratory assist. With your consent, tomorrow we will begin weaning him from the ventilator, with the purpose of removing him from it in a couple days – depending on how the weaning process goes." Ichigo looked up at Grimmjow, the consent form and a pen next to his right hand.

"Who does it?" the other man grunted.

"Respiratory Therapy and the nursing staff, under the direction of Dr. Kuchiki."

"I'd havta be here … for the tube comin' out."

"Of course."

"Gimme the pen." Grimmjow signed his name in a scrawling "G-squiggle J-squiggle". "Can ya read that?" he asked, handing both paper and pen back to Ichigo.

"Jaegerjaques-san, I'm a nurse. I read _doctor's handwriting_. I bet I could translate the Dead Sea Scrolls by now." Ichigo took the items back and opened Szayel-san's small paper chart, tucking the consent inside.

Grimmjow barked laughter. Ichigo looked up, smiling, and was stunned by the beauty that shone on the other man's face. When he laughed his eyes crinkled at the corners, the blue orbs glowed an even more ethereal blue, the shape of his lips and mouth … it changed his entire look and dropped years from his face. This alone told Ichigo how worried the man had been about his brother.

"Your parents … when will they be coming in?" he asked the other man.

"Tomorr – today," Grimmjow replied, glancing at the atomic clock on the wall above the desk.

"Perhaps they would like to be present for the extubation? If everything works out and we can do it, that is."

"I'll ask 'em, but my gut feelin' is yeah … they'll wanna be here."

"All right, I'll put that in the nurse's notes." Ichigo began typing on the laptop's keyboard, starting the notes which would include everything he'd done for the patients tonight, their reactions (if any – yes, including Szayel's state of arousal), and the conversation with Jaegerjaques-san with the resultant consent being given for the weaning/extubation procedure.

It took a while to get the two charts in order – Ichigo was no fool, these charts had to be absolutely perfect. They were the trail of his caring, the only means he had of showing that he was doing everything he could, everything necessary to make the patient's stay at 3C a therapeutic, successful one. They were his protection if he was called in for a deposition in a court of law (hadn't happened yet and he felt like knocking on wood every time he thought about it). "If it isn't charted, the nurse didn't do it." It mattered.

The door next to the desk opened. Ishida Uryuu poked his head in. "Ready for lunch, Ichigo?" He saw Grimmjow then, still leaning against the wall. "Your pardon," Uryuu said, entering and bowing to the blue-haired man.

"No problem," Grimmjow said, pushing off from the wall and moving back to his brother's bedside.

"Ichigo," Ishida said. "Lunch?"

"Sure. Thanks … just let me finish this note …."

"Sure." Ishida went to Shinji's bed, checking his condition and marking off his vitals. In the meantime, Ichigo had finished his charting and signed off, standing and stretching a bit, not noticing the blue eyes that followed his every move.

Ichigo gave report, then gave Ishida a light punch on the arm ("Ow! Asshole!" Uryuu whispered), then went out the door. Suddenly a hand grasped him by the arm, just above the elbow.

"What's for lunch?" Grimmjow said into his ear, breath puffing and stirring Ichigo's hair.

He swallowed. "I, uh, I have a bento."

"Got enough for two?" He pulled Ichigo to a stop in the dim hallway. "Or let me rephrase that, yeah? Let's have lunch, _Kurosaki-kun_." He'd pulled a button-up shirt on but had only buttoned one button, about mid-way down his abdomen. A pair of the hospital's guest slippers were on his feet … only these were a pretty pink, slightly fuzzy and, let's face it – cute. Ichigo looked down and snickered.

"What. You don't like my slippers?" Grimmjow grinned.

"There are men's slippers in the closet, too, you know," Ichigo said, looking back into the other man's face.

"Yeah, yeah," Grimmjow said, pulling Ichigo towards the elevators. "But these were the first ones I saw." He switched topics like a preacher. "Where's yer bento box?"

"Employee lounge fridge," Ichigo said, moving past the elevators and down to the lounge door.

"Ah."

Ichigo had a moment's disquiet when he remembered that this was a bento box that Ichimaru Gin had packed for him … so he had no idea what was in it. Oh, well … how much damage could a lunch do? Resolutely, he walked into the lounge and retrieved the box, grabbed two oolong teas from the fridge, and rejoined Jaegerjaques-san outside the door. "There's a nice park on the grounds … want to eat there?"

"Scared to be by yerself with me, Kurosaki-kun?" Grimmjow asked, teeth glinting in one of those grins.

"N-no! Just … there's no place to sit and eat on the roof." Forget that he ate up there almost every night that he was here alone. Oh, well.

"Lead the way," Grimm said, making a flourishing gesture with his right arm.

So lead the way he did.

XXX

Earlier that night, in Ichigo Kurosaki's apartment …

"Gin … Gin … c'mon, I wanna go back to bed. Put on Ichi's lucky pj's and come back to bed with me," Starrk whined, looking like a whipped puppy. "Pleeeaase?"

"Mah, mah … listen to you," Gin murmured, grinning, looking at his fiancé. "Just one more minute, precious, and then we'll go back to sleep." He finished the email he was answering, attached a document, sent it on its way, and then closed the lid on his laptop. "There. Done. Now … what was it you were wanting?" His voice thrummed with humor.

Starrk's handsome face, eyes drooping sleepily, looking up at Gin from the couch. "Jammies. Bed. Sleep."

"Come with me, then," Gin said, holding out his hand.

Once they were back in the bedroom, Gin stripped and put on the flannel pajamas. "There. Better?"

Starrk was naked, already under the covers. He lifted them invitingly and motioned for Gin to get in. Which he did, although with exaggerated movements, as though he was conferring a huge favor upon the brunet. "They are very soft, ne?" he murmured, his lips curled in his trademark grin, his eyes mere slits as he settled down on the mattress, under the blankets with his lover.

As soon as Gin stopped moving, Starrk was snuggled up close, wrapping his long arms and legs around the silveret, squeezing him tightly, kissing the side of his neck. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for coming here … for understanding … and for, um, participating."

"My pleasure, ne?" Gina replied, with a little pinch to Starrk's backside. "The God of Sleep is surprisingly cute. And obedient." He grinned. Starrk felt it against his hair. "But I think the cutest thing is: you, while you are here." He meant it. Starrk seemed to regress, sort-of, become more child-like. It was, indeed, extremely cute.

"Mmm," was the brunet's only reply, nuzzling his nose into Gin's soft, silky hair.

"Shall I show you, then? How cute I think you are?" Gin's hand slid down Starrk's back, lightly caressing his muscles, tracing the line of his spine. He felt the goose bumps that had arisen under his fingertips – Starrk had very sensitive skin. The brown-haired man shivered slightly as Gin's hand moved lower, tracing the curves of muscular buttocks, then dipping into the cleft between them. With his other arm, he pulled Starrk halfway up on top of him. "What would you like? Tell me."

Starrk lifted his head, looked down at his fiancé, and then licked his lips softly. "Can I be lazy? Can I be demanding? Can I be selfish?"

"You mean, like normal?" Gin's tight-lipped grin caused his eyes to close almost completely.

Starrk nipped his lips playfully. "I want your mouth," he said huskily, his voice deepening slightly.

"And mah mouth wants you," Gin growled, then kissed him with rising passion, parting his lips and sliding his long tongue inside, slipping it underneath Starrk's tongue, lightly fluttering against the soft tissues there. As they kissed, he used one finger to pet his lover's twitching anus, circling and caressing it. The evidence of Starrk's increasing desire pressed hard against Gin's hip, throbbing and flexing as Starrk arched his back, growling against Gin's lips.

Gin slid out from underneath his lover, nuzzling his goatee, kissing his neck and licking his right ear as he did so. He looked down at the long lean form of his naked fiancé, marveling at the incredible coincidence that landed him where he was today – engaged to this amazing man. He moved long brown hair over to the side and kissed a line from Starrk's neck to his left shoulder blade, hands caressing and mapping the musculature under smooth skin.

"Mmm, yes," Starrk murmured, by no means a quiet lover. He kept up a running commentary of exclamations, instructions, praise … it had come as a distinct surprise to the more-quiet Gin when they'd first gone to bed together. But now he doubted he could do it without it! "Your mouth is so hot …."

Gin just chuckled quietly and licked a long wet line down Starrk's spine as his hands kneaded the other man's buttocks. Gods, he loved Starrk's ass. Perfect. Not a sissy girlish ass, it was definitely a man's butt, twin muscular globes under the twin divots on each side of the base of his spine. Sexy. Hot. Perfect. Sliding his tongue further, Gin began to lick at Starrk's puckered entrance, like he was lapping up ice cream. Lick, lick, lick, lick, over and over, knowing that the sensation was amping up with each touch of his tongue. It was something that Starrk liked _very_ much. And Ichimaru Gin always did what Starrk liked. Even as he searched for new things to add to the list.

"Ahh … that's so good," Starrk said into the pillow, arching his back, lifting his rear up. "Mmm …."

Gin spread his cheeks and dove in, wriggling his tongue inside, forcing his way past the sphincter, sliding it in as far as it would go. Once in, he slid a finger in, too, until Starrk relaxed around the intrusion enough for him to tongue-fuck his ass. Which he did. Until Starrk was matching his rhythm, slowly moving his hips in such a way that Gin knew he was rubbing his hard cock against the mattress below him. Finger out. Tongue-fucking that gorgeous ass. Gin was as hard as a rock. Again. He held back from humping Starrk's leg, but had to use all his self-control to do so. It was Starrk's turn. His would come later. He knew that.

He sucked on that delicate tissue, too. Gin knew just what to do to work Starrk up to a fever pitch, and _nothing_ was taboo. Nothing. If Starrk wanted it, he would do it. His lover was now arched even further, up and off the mattress, so Gin reached around and slowly ran a finger along Starrk's hard length, touching lightly without warning, causing his lover to utter a short "uhn!" of surprise. He shoved his tongue all the way inside, wriggling it, until his nose was pressed against Starrk's backside, at the exact moment he grabbed that long hard cock and stroked it ruthlessly, spreading pre-seminal fluid back from the dripping head, slicking it up and making his lover moan.

Suddenly he flipped Starrk over onto his back, enjoying the look of surprise in those brown eyes, and fell on top of him. Latching onto a tan hard nipple, he bit harshly, flicking the trapped nubbin with his tongue, even as he pressed his arousal against Starrk's. Sensation. Warring sensations of pleasure, meant to overwhelm and torment, hands moving, one pinching the other nipple, the other reaching up and sliding two fingers into Starrk's mouth. Gin excelled at love-making like this. It was like being in bed with two or three people, he could multi-task like a fiend.

When he stopped everything, that too was part of it. After all he'd been doing, the sudden cessation of sensation was like a little torture. Starrk gasped and then moaned, shaking with desire. Gin loved seeing him look like this. "Mm," he said in his silkiest voice, "what do you want?"

"Gin! You … fucking … you …."

Gin laughed softly and flicked his tongue on the nipple he'd just been biting, then he sucked it hard, like he expected to get something out of it, like he was hungry and needed it, sucking the whole thing into his mouth with _enthusiasm_.

"Ah! Gin … God! …." Starrk grabbed his dick and was stroking it hard and fast. Gin smacked his hand away, forcing him to stop, taking him by the wrist when he reached for it again.

"Mine."

"Ah … nn! Yess … yours," Starrk muttered, eyes closed, expectant. He laced his fingers into Gin's hair and pushed his head down. He needed it now, the teasing had him worked up to a fever pitch and he wanted it _now_.

Not one to withhold anything from his precious one for long, Gin dipped his head and gave Starrk's dick a long salacious lick, from top to bottom and back again. He kissed it softly, then with more pressure, then with utter abandon. He loved Starrk's cock, he loved doing this … and it showed. He knew what Starrk liked after all the blowjobs he'd given the man, and he loved to please him.

Nibble at the base, then lick it with a long flat tongue, like it was the world's most delicious popsicle. Suck at the slightly creased spot on the underside, where that delicious "arrow" pointed up to the slit. Lick and suck around the rim of the head, now flared and dark with desire, oozing fluid, twitching under his ministrations, throbbing and pulsating against his lips and tongue. Nip with the lips, all the way down the long length, then sucking kisses back up again. Flutter the tip of his tongue around the slit, slide it in as far as he could, purse his lips and suck at the hole, drawing out the fluid there, swallowing it with vocal pleasure.

Starrk loved it. He tried so hard to watch, because watching Gin in action, his expressions as he serviced his lover – it was amazing. But his head kept falling back, the pleasure made a hedonist out of him, he could really just lay there, trembling and twitching, trying not to thrust his cock down Gin's throat. He'd managed to find a man who gave the best, most selfless, skillful head he'd _ever_ had. (And that was really saying something. People always wanted to get their hands [or mouths] on Starrk's dick.) It felt so good, but he was dying to have his cock down Gin's throat! "Ah! Haa! Gin!" He wanted to shout, _suck me goddammit!_ But it felt so good!

He wanted to have his cake and eat it too.

Gin took the decision out of his hands. He took the head in his mouth, sucking enthusiastically, sliding his tongue all over it, humming happily. He opened his eyes and looked up at Starrk, who jerked spasmodically in reaction. Then slowly, inch by delicious torturous inch, Gin began taking that long luscious cock into his mouth and down his throat, still sucking and slathering it with his tongue.

Amazing. Fucking amazing. Starrk watched, eyes wide, fighting himself, wanting to grab Gin's head and thrust into his mouth, over and over, until he came deep down in the man's throat. His cock _flexed_ as the thought ran through his mind … again. Gin winked … as though he knew exactly what Starrk was thinking. Hell, he probably did!

Without a single gag, Gin took in his lover's hard member until his nose was pressed solidly against Starrk's pubic bone. He swallowed around it, over and over. One hand snuck between them and grasped Starrk's tight scrotum, squeezing it almost to the point of pain … the other hand slid a damp finger inside his still-twitching ass, sliding all the way in to the knuckle, searching, wiggling. "Ah! Gin! Nn, hah!" Starrk was shaking, his knees came up, his hands tangled in silky silver hair. "Gin, please! Ah ahh!" He slid a foot up Gin's leg and began massaging his dick through the lucky pajama bottoms. Coercion had worked before … perhaps it would now.

He was right. Gin came up off his dick with a gasp, his head thrown back, reacting with moaning pleasure as his dick was finally touched. He began thrusting his finger in and out of Starrk's ass, adding a second when the tense ring of muscle relaxed. "Yeah," he moaned, more like a growl, as Starrk increased the pressure, and then he took over on it himself, humping Starrk's leg shamelessly. In the pursuit of pleasure, Gin had no limits, no embarrassment. Starrk loved it.

Suddenly his dick was engulfed in hot wetness again as Gin got down to business. Suck the head, sliiiide it all down his throat, swallow swallow, then back up, kiss kiss, back down – a slow torturous rhythm, one that had Starrk's hips rocking in time. Little by little Gin sped up, increasing the pressure of his lips, sucking harder, swallowing hard, throat muscles working against that rock-solid cock. Ten inches of throbbing muscle slid in and out of his mouth, beautiful, it was such a turn-on to feel that intrusion, almost better than getting fucked by it. Almost.

"Gin … Gin! I'm gonna! Gin I'm gonna ….!" Starrk's voice was harsh but thrumming with pleasure as he couldn't help it any more, he began thrusting his hips, holding Gin's head by the hair, two-fisted, fucking his lover's mouth, his self-control was _gone_, he could no longer hold back, it was too good! Too fucking good!

Gin held still in his lover's grip. Eyes closed, he breathed when he could, hummed his satisfaction with Starrk's actions and reactions, let him ravage his throat. Whatever he wanted. It was as simple as that. But at the same time, it was all such a fucking turn-on that he couldn't help himself either – he was stroking himself off, a hard fast rhythm that matched the one Starrk had going in his mouth. FUCK it was good.

"C-coming! Gin … I … I love you! Love you, Gin! AH!" He pulled Gin's hair as he rammed his cock home, buried to the hilt in Gin's mouth, his dick pulsated as cum spurted over and over. He shook and groaned with it, so good, god damn, it was amazing, the pleasure shot out from his pelvis in waves that lanced upward and outward. "Ah yeah! Nn nn NN!"

It was Starrk's orgasm and his reactions to it that sent Gin over the edge. So demanding and selfish in his pursuit of pleasure, it was _such_ a turn-on … the silveret's body seemed to bunch up and hold itself steady for a trembling second or two, and then he shook, hard, muscles clenching and unclenching as his cock spasmed and flexed in his hand. Ohh, _yeah_ … white-hot pleasure flooded outward, making his toes curl and his eyes roll back in his head as he sucked his lover's cum down his throat, the asphyxiation adding to it, amplifying it. Feed me, beloved. I need this. I need _you_. Always. Forever.

…

Afterwards, they lay in Ichigo's bed together, holding each other, kissing and stroking with languid hands. That they were both cuddlers was a bonus each appreciated with the utmost in hedonism. It was after a passionate kiss that threatened to ignite into another round that Starrk said, lazily, "hey, Gin."

"Yeah?"

"Been meaning to ask you … what did you put in Ichigo's bento? You wouldn't let us look."

Gin chuckled darkly. "Hope he's eating alone tonight."

XXX

The park was deserted at this late hour … not too many park-goers at 3 a.m. Ichigo and Grimmjow found a picnic table near a globed light and settled down across from each other, putting out the cigarettes they'd smoked on the way from the facility. Bottles of oolong tea plunked down onto the tabletop, then Ichigo unwrapped the bento box and opened it. His cheeks immediately flared red. "That son of a …."

Grimmjow looked at him curiously, then looked down into the box. His eyes widened, then he roared laughter. "What in the hell? Dude … "

"Shut up," Ichigo muttered in reply. That bastard, Gin … he should've known the silver-haired man would do something like this. Onigiri (rice balls) that really were shaped like balls – like _scrotum_ balls – each with a carved sausage sticking up from them, carefully worked to look like a hard penis. Three of them, nestled together in a bed of salad. One of the sausages was very large – _that must be Starrk_, Ichigo thought helplessly, looking at it with dismay.

"Jesus Christ … what's inside of 'em?" Grimmjow said, still chuckling. "I'm almost afraid ta ask."

"Shut up," Ichigo repeated. He was almost afraid to find out! He picked up one and squeezed it gently, wincing when a white cream smooshed out around the base of the … er, the penis-sausage. He touched it with a finger and tasted it, expecting the tart taste of cum, illogically, but was pleasantly surprised to find it was a white mayonnaise-based sauce. "It's safe," he said, blushing, eyes flicking up to look at Jaegerjaques-san.

Who was grinning. "If ya didn't know what was in 'em … then who the hell made this for ya?" While he was still smiling, the tone was slightly … dangerous.

"My friends … the ones who visited me, that I mentioned earlier. Remember?"

"Uh-huh. Friends, huh? Must be close friends." Grimmjow picked up one of the onigiri genitals – it was the Starrk-ish one – and bit into the, er, the scrotum. "Hmph. S'good, at least." He chewed thoughtfully. People who made shit like _this_ for you weren't just 'friends'.

Ichigo picked up one of the remaining onigiri and bit into it. The sauce was tangy and contained bits of tuna. _Ha ha, Gin_, he thought. _Very fucking funny_. He felt terminally embarrassed, like his face was going to spontaneously combust.

"Explain." Grimmjow's tone brooked no refusal. His eyes were latched onto Ichigo as he took another bite of the rice ball, the stare was … territorial?

Ichigo looked back at him as he chewed. He shook his head, not in a refusal-way, but in an I-can't-believe-this way. He looked away, then, and didn't catch the intent stare focused upon him when he put the 'head' of the sausage into his mouth, or the wince when he bit it off.

"C'mon … it can't be _that _bad, right?"

"I don't know you. And it's a long story, one that I don't have the time or the inclination to share." Ichigo's voice was firm.

"I already watched ya gettin' sucked off by yer boss in an alley," Grimmjow said gruffly. "And then we came tagether … I'd say we're on our way ta gettin' ta know each other pretty fuckin' good. _Kurosaki-kun_."

Ichigo sighed in defeat as his cheeks flamed again. Fuck. "Look … we're just friends. Starrk was engaged to a former patient of mine, and we became … close. He came over to visit yesterday and brought his new fiancé with him. This guy has a weird sense of humor, that's all." He finished the penis-sausage, licking his fingers afterward. No napkins in the bento box … Gin probably did that on purpose, imagining Ichigo having to lick his fingers after eating the little dick-sausages. Bastard.

"Weird sense of humor."

"Yeah."

Grimmjow grunted in reply. He finished off his onigiri too, then gestured at the last piece. "You want the dick or the balls?"

"You pick."

"I'll take the balls. You look like the kind who likes to take the dick." He grinned savagely, pulling the sausage off the onigiri and leaning over the table with it. "Say 'ahh'."

"You - ! I - !" Ichigo sputtered to a stop. What a fucking prick! But he was a family member! Professional! Goddammit!

Grimmjow waved the penis-shaped sausage in front of Ichigo's face. "Come on … ya know ya want it. I'll give it to ya. Open that mouth." Suddenly he was no longer smiling. His eyes were glued to Ichigo's lips.

The night seemed to become very quiet. Ichigo stared at the sausage that was dangling in front of his face. He refocused his eyes on the bluenet's face beyond it and licked his lips thoughtlessly. He opened his mouth, saying softly, "ahh." Grimmjow leaned in, traced the little head of the penis-sausage on Ichigo's lips, smearing grease lightly on that luscious mouth, then slipped the sausage inside – only to take it back out again. Then he did it again. And _again_.

Ichigo was mesmerized by the man's eyes. They were intent on Ichigo's mouth, blue brows furled slightly in a small frown. When the sausage entered his mouth again, Ichigo closed his lips around it and sucked, freeing it from Grimmjow's fingers. He lowered his eyes and bit into it, chewing with painful embarrassment.

"God _damn_," Grimmjow breathed. He stood up. "Look whatcha did to me." He pulled the shirt away and exposed his hips … the front of his jeans showcased a nice-sized bulge which _flexed_ when Ichigo couldn't help but look at it. He stopped chewing, lips parting, staring. Slim hips encased in battered blue jeans, arousal apparent in the best way. He watched helplessly as Jaegerjaques-san leaned forward and slid his jeans-clad erection against the table's edge, up, down, up, down, letting out a small groan as he did so. Ichigo was mesmerized yet again, food forgotten, as he watched the sensuous display. Ohh, this man was dangerous.

"Y-you … stop that," Ichigo rasped.

"Can't. Feels good. C'mere, let me show ya how good it feels," Grimmjow growled. When Ichigo didn't move, he swiftly came around to Ichigo's side of the picnic table, straddled the bench seat, and buried his hands in soft orange spikes. He groaned at the feel of that amazing hair. He pulled on it, making Ichigo look up at him. "God, yer sexy," he muttered, looking down at Ichigo's shining lips, his half-lidded eyes, the blush on his cheeks.

"L-let go," Ichigo whispered, half-heartedly. If there was one thing he liked (craved!) above all others, it was this: submitting to a strong male, the decisions taken out of his hands. He, who ran things all night at work, who was responsible for making decisions about his patients and their care, who had to run things at home and make all the decisions there, too – it just felt so good to give in and let someone else "be the boss". (Maybe that's another part of the reason he'd let Aizen do what he'd done at Seireitei.)

Grimmjow could smell a submissive a mile away. "No," he said, softly but firmly. He leaned in and pressed his clothed erection against Ichigo's cheek, rubbing it there, back and forth, back and forth. He slid his fingers through Ichigo's hair, massaging his scalp, caressing his ears. No need to hold Ichigo's head steady against his groin, the other male would stay still for him, he could tell. He turned his hips slightly and pushed his erection against Ichigo's lips, again softly but firmly. "Kiss it," he said, gruffly.

A slight hesitation. Grimmjow pressed forward again. Then, softly, kiss kiss kiss. Lips pressed against the fly of his jeans, cheeks flaring red.

"Good boy," Grimmjow muttered, a grin spreading across his face. He watched as the oranget kissed down the length, pressing those luscious lips to his erection which twitched steadily under the attention. He freed one hand from orange spikes and unzipped his fly. "Keep going," he directed.

He went commando. Ichigo looked up at him, pupils dilated, panting breaths from between parted lips. Then he leaned forward and laid his lips on Grimmjow's naked cock. A harsh breath drawn in above him, a tightening of the hands in his hair. Kiss kiss kiss. It was hot. Hard muscle encased by silken flesh. In his scrubs, his own dick clamored for attention, pulsating and straining inside his underwear. God.

Two seconds later, he found himself on Grimmjow's lap, his scrubs undone, his cock out and pressed deliciously up against the blue-haired man's. "Closer," the male said, pulling him in tighter. He gripped Ichigo's ass cheeks and squeezed, making the oranget gasp and straighten, arching his back. "Get us off," Grimmjow growled. "Together." With the last word, he pressed Ichigo against him again, making their dicks slide together. Both men groaned in reaction.

Ichigo reached down and grasped both their erections in his fist, immediately starting up a steady tight stroking rhythm, mixing their pre-seminal fluid together and getting all slippery. He was gasping with pleasure, the other arm around Grimmjow's neck, hanging on for all he was worth.

"Good boy," Grimmjow said, looking up at him, squeezing Ichigo's buttocks again. "Feels _good_."

Nothing like knowing you were pleasing a dominant to make a submissive's heart pound. Ichigo groaned in reaction, giving in completely when a strong hand joined with his on their cocks, and when the other tangled in his hair, pulling his head down for a fierce kiss. Jaegerjaques-san worked more of that mouth-magic on him again, taking possession of his mouth with lips and teeth and tongue, leaving Ichigo a trembling wreck on the verge of coming … already!

"Yeah," Grimmjow said against his lips. "You wanna come for me?" His hand over Ichigo's forced the rhythm to a stop while he waited for his answer.

"Y-yes! Please!" Ichigo was on the edge … one more stroke, one more _kiss_, and he'd go off like a rocket.

"That's all I wanted ta hear," Grimmjow said. "Go ahead. Come for me. Say … my … name!" With the last three words he stroked and squeezed, making Ichigo's hand move with his … and dove his other hand down inside the back of Ichigo's scrubs, pressing against that twitching pink hole, rubbing it, laying claim.

"Yes! Ah! Nn nn … Gr-Grimmjow! Ah, yes, Grimmjow!" His back arched, his muscles clenched, his arm tightened around Grimmjow's neck … and his insides promptly exploded in pleasure.

Grimmjow popped off right along with him. Tomo had been the only person to ever top Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, and it'd only been that one time. He'd known afterwards that he was seme through and through … and slipping into the dominant role was as natural for him as breathing. Nothing turned him on like a strong man giving him control. He rode out his orgasm almost silently, watching and listening to the gorgeous oranget in his lap, groaning in pleasure as cum spurted out and mixed on their hands. _Marked you_, he thought. _You are gonna be _mine_, Kurosaki-kun … mine and no-one else's_. "Mm, good," he said as it wound down. "Fuckin' good."

Ichigo gasped in his lap, collapsing against him, beginning to come back to reality in a big way. What in the fuck was he doing? He … he just couldn't help it. The man was too handsome, too sexy, too arrogant, and forceful in going after what he wanted. Killer combination as far as Ichigo was concerned.

Grimmjow whipped off his shirt and cleaned them both up. Ichigo stayed planted in his lap while he was carefully wiped off … his now-mostly-flaccid penis (obviously getting ready for round two) was tucked away inside his boxer briefs … his scrub pants were re-tied in place. He couldn't look at Grimmjow. Finally the cleaning-up was done and he tensed his muscles to get up, but two strong arms came around him and held him firmly in place.

"It was good, yeah?" that soft deep voice asked.

Ichigo nodded against Grimmjow's neck. He felt like a little kid, or a virgin, or something. Strange.

Lips against his hair. Against his ear … then his neck. Ah, gawd … kissing and nuzzling and holding after sex … another thing Ichigo was weak against. Not to be used for an orgasm and then left to get through the aftermath on your own, but to be coddled and caressed and treated like something precious … it went straight to … to his heart. Wait. Wait a minute. No room for this. It was not Ichigo's destiny to be "in love" like regular people … all his love was taken by his beloveds. This could not happen.

Lips softly kissed his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth … then carefully and lovingly kissed his lips as he was held tightly. A hand came up to cup his cheek, then lightly held his jaw while his mouth was thoroughly kissed. No. No no no. _Ulquiorra … David … Ramon … Yuki_ … Ichigo began his litany, drawing on them for his strength. _Sebastian, Leif, Timothy_ … he felt their strength flooding into him … _Hayato, Keigo, Kira_. With the last name, he opened his eyes and leaned back. "Thank you," he said, softly but firmly.

Grimmjow felt the change. And didn't like it one. Fucking. Bit. "Thank you?" he repeated, frowning. "What the fuck."

"Yes." Ichigo began untangling himself … but before he could say another word, his pager went off. He stood up and pulled it off the back of his scrub pants, then hit the buttons to light the small screen and read it. He gasped, eyes wide, and jumped away from Grimmjow. Without another word he turned and ran at top speed, back towards the hospital.

Grimmjow felt an arrow of fear lance into his heart. "Wait! Is it Szayel? Hey, motherfucker … _is it_ SZAYEL!" He leapt to his feet and lit out after Ichigo, but holy shit that kid could run.

One word floated back to him: "No!" before he lost Ichigo on a curve in the tree-lined path.

Ahead, Ichigo was running like the devil was after him, heart pounding, feet flying over the pavement. The page was from Ishida, and it had read, "Shinji 911".

XXX

**End Chapter 6**

**Hope y'all liked it! Sorry it took so long to get this up … work's been a bitch!**

**More to come soon!**

**Thanks to all who review and comment and favoritize. XD**

**Ahvienda**


	7. Chapter 7 Crash and Burn

**Chapter 7 – Crash and Burn**

**Warnings: foul, foul language; adult situations; yaoi.**

**Discl: No, I **_**still**_** don't own Bleach! What the hell!**

_Shinji 911_ … _Shinji 911_ …. Ichigo tore down the path that led to the facility's employee entrance and ripped the badge off his chest as he neared it. Swiping the badge against the card reader, he yanked the heavy door open as soon as the light flashed green. He dashed down the hallway to the elevators, mashed the up button, and swore when neither of the doors opened immediately. Springing into a run again, he narrowly avoided hitting one of the housekeeping carts as he made his way at a dead run toward the door marked "Stairs". Maybe it wouldn't be quicker than waiting out the elevators, but he couldn't just stand there and wait. He took the stairs two at a time, hand on the bannister, yanking himself up three flights as quickly as he could.

The first sight that met his eyes upon bursting through the 3rd floor door was the sight of an orderly pushing the crash cart down the hall toward Ichigo's room. His heart fluttered in his chest as the implication sank in. Tearing past the man/cart combo, he skidded around the corner and into the room. Ichigo's eyes flickered over to Szayel, noted that he was still, and then zeroed in on Shinji. Two orderlies were at Shinji's bed, restraining the figure thrashing about on the bed. Uryuu stood at the head of the bed, suctioning Shinji's trach. The respirator was alarming, the shrill tones blaring in the formerly quiet room. "Uryuu! What happened?" Ichigo shouted as he hurried over to him, eyes moving from Shinji to the monitors and back again.

"Can't tell," Uryuu grunted as he held Shinji's head with one hand while suctioning the trach with the other. "I heard him begin to move, and then the respirator went off." He finished suctioning and reattached the tubing to the end of the trach where it jutted out from Shinji's throat. Both nurses watched the respirator as it attempted to re-establish a normal breathing rate – but it didn't. Instead the alarms paused while it detected re-attachment, then began shrilling again. "I've paged Kuchiki, he'll be here any minute."

Ichigo leaned over Shinji. The blond's eyes were wide open, bulging, tears flowing down in steady streams to his ears. His head moved back and forth as he strained against the restrictive hands of the orderlies. "Shinji … Shinji!" Ichigo laid a hand on the patient's chest as he muttered, "fuck," and looked at the monitors again. Shinji's heart rate was 149, but the rhythm was rock solid, the QRS tracking like clockwork. "EKG looks okay," Ichigo muttered, glad that the crash cart wasn't in the room because it was _needed_ … it was here just in case. The blond thrashed harder, making the orderlies grunt, holding his arms, keeping his IV lines secure, making sure he wouldn't accidently dislodge any lines or hurt himself. "What the fuck!" Ichigo groaned through clenched teeth.

"Nothing happened," Uryuu said, studying the ventilator's readings. "I mean it, one minute it was business as usual, the next …." He turned back to the bed. "We're gonna have to sedate him if this keeps up." Neither one wanted to do that.

Byakuya Kuchiki rushed in through the open door. Ichigo had a second to notice the pajama top (unbuttoned) and messy hair before he had to press down harder on Shinji's chest. "What's going on," the doctor said, his eyes missing nothing as he scanned the situation.

Uryuu filled him in quickly. "… and when I suctioned I only got a little mucus out. He's dry," he finished.

Byakuya looked at the vent, he looked at Shinji's monitors, and then he pressed close against the side of the bed, leaning over the young man. "I need an EEG," he said. Ichigo sprang into action, running out the door and calling to the unit clerk at the desk. Within moments a tech ran through the door, ripping equipment out of a black bag as she came, pulling a small cart behind her. "Move," she murmured, as she began peeling the backs off the leads embedded in a net cap. Each lead already had a small portion of conductive gel on it. She pulled the cap onto Shinji's head, then wiggled each lead in place, not only parting Shinji's hair to get to the scalp, but also to score the skin in order to remove any dead cells that could impede the EEG's readings.

Once the cap was in place, she tightened the bands that would secure it to Shinji's head (Ichigo helped hold the blond's head still during this procedure), pressed each of the ten leads again to make sure they were in contact with Shinji's scalp, tightened the straps again, and plugged the cap into her machine.

Everyone waited. The respirator shrilled its alarms until Dr. Kuchiki told Uryuu to silence the alarm feature. Quietly, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques re-entered the room and went to stand by his brother's bed, silently observing the figures standing around the other patient's bed until the tableau was hidden from him by the screen. Shinji still thrashed in his bed, but he was held steady by Uryuu and Ichigo at each arm, and an orderly at each leg. Sweat ran down Ichigo's face. Along with everyone else, his eyes were glued to the EEG monitor.

Byakuya was the first to interpret what they began to see as the ten lines began to scrawl across the small screen. "Fentanyl, 25 micrograms IV push," he murmured. Ichigo let go of Shinji's arm (Uryuu leaned over to grab that arm carefully, too) and ran to the PHARM machine near the nurse's station. He quickly got the pain med out of the drawer and returned to the room to get a syringe. Taking the dose from the small vial he then attached the syringe to a port on Shinji's IV line and began the slow IV push administration of the narcotic pain medication. As he waited out the minute for a slow push, he watched the doctor. Kuchiki's focus was divided between the continuing squiggly lines of the EEG and the ventilator's readouts.

One minute later, Ichigo had finished administering the med. Shinji had stopped straining so hard against the hands that held him in place. "He's right handed?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," Ichigo replied.

"Let go of his right arm," Kuchiki said to Uryuu, quietly. Shinji's arm twitched, then flopped haphazardly, then straightened out, his right hand went to the trach at his throat, scratching at it, weakly grabbing it. The doctor gently held his hand away. "Suction again," he said to Ichigo, who immediately grabbed the suction, pulled the hose off Shinji's trach, and stuck the long slender suction tube through the opening down into Shinji's trachea and bronchus, rotating it slightly as he pulled it back out. Very little mucus was retrieved. Ichigo reattached the vent tube and watched, his eyes going from Kuchiki to Shinji to the respirator and back again.

"Is … is he …?" Ichigo's voice was quiet, but it would have been difficult for anyone to not hear the hope in it.

"Yes," Kuchiki replied. "He's fighting the vent. Remove the tube and stand by with the ambu-bag."

Hope, that had tinged Ichigo's voice seconds earlier, now flared hotly in his chest. He swallowed hard as he removed the ambu-bag from its position on the side of the vent, and mentally said a prayer to any and all gods out there who might be awake and listening. He pulled the tube away from Shinji's tracheostomy and waited, holding his breath. Nothing happened.

"Give him five breaths with the ambu," Kuchiki said, watching the oxygen saturation reading on the monitor.

Ichigo attached the ambu-bag to Shinji's trach and gave him five breaths, watching the slender blond's chest rise and fall as he did so. Then he pulled it away and watched and waited, again holding his breath. Nothing happened. Shinji had stopped moving. He didn't thrash in the bed or try to reach for his throat. It was as though he had gone back to his deep, deep sleep. Even his eyes were now closed, adding to the impression of a return to his former motionless comatose state. Ichigo felt the hope in his chest die a little.

"Kurosaki, five more breaths. Ishida, give this young man a little stimulus," the doctor said, still evidently calm as a stone, no matter his slightly rumpled appearance.

Ichigo re-attached the ambu-bag and began giving Shinji the breaths as Uryuu unsnapped the patient's gown and began a sternal rub – that knuckles-against-the-breastbone technique that Ichigo hated and that Dr. Kuchiki preferred. It is designed to elicit a response from an apparently unconscious person, to see if they will react to it. Done correctly, it works. But Ichigo preferred other, less painful methods. However, it wasn't his call. As Uryuu rubbed the knuckles of his right fist on Shinji's chest, Ichigo watched Shinji's hands – they would be the first thing to move if he could really respond. He'd want to stop what was happening at his chest.

"His right leg just twitched," the orderly on that side stated, his hand resting on Shinji's leg.

"Nothing on this side," the other orderly said.

"Stop breaths," Kuchiki stated. Ichigo stopped. The room was dead silent. From across the way, Grimmjow listened, motionless, holding Szayel's hand. "Try another rub, Ishida," the doctor said. Once more, for about four seconds, knuckles against sternum.

"Got another twitch," the orderly said.

"Two more breaths, Kurosaki-san," Byakuya said, quietly. Ichigo did it. Then waited.

It was very quiet. So faint that everyone at the head of the bed leaned in to be sure what they were hearing. A very slight whisper of sound from Shinji's trach … a very small movement of his chest. Then louder, the shuffing sound of an exhale as his chest relaxed again. Ichigo wanted to shout at the top of his lungs. But he waited, like everyone else.

The seconds ticked on. "Give him another breath, Ichigo," Byakuya murmured. Ichigo repeated the ambu-bag procedure.

"Come on, Shinji," he said, no longer able to keep quiet. "Come on, breathe. You can do it." Two seconds went by, then again: the quiet whisper of an inhaled breath, the chuff of an exhalation behind it. Ichigo waited, practically twitching with stress … and it happened again. He looked up at Byakuya and Uryuu, grinning, as the third breath commenced. "God _damn_," he said.

Uryuu was grinning, too. Dr. Kuchiki said, "Indeed," and nodded his head firmly. "Put him back on the vent, assist mode, cut the O2 down to 2 liters, recovery parameters, keep a watchful eye on that saturation. Kara, let that EEG run for two hours and then get Dr. Rajapura to read it. Ichigo, call me with the report … and if anything else happens, of course." He watched Shinji's chest rise and fall as he was issuing orders. "If he begins thrashing again, repeat Fentanyl, 25 micrograms IV push."

"Yes, doctor," Ichigo said, still grinning, holding back the tears that were threatening to fill his eyes.

Kara set the EEG machine on the bedside table and checked the net, making sure it was still holding the electrodes securely to Shinji's head, then she waved goodbye, smiling as she went out the door. Uryuu wiped sweat from his forehead, gave Ichigo a bro-hug with one arm, then hurried out, back to his own room. Ichigo and Byakuya faced each other across Shinji's bed after the orderlies were dismissed. Ichigo was patting the blond's arm affectionately, unaware that a tear had escaped his left eye and was tracking down his cheek, the smile still on his lips.

"I knew that his mother and father had begun speaking about removing Shinji from the respirator," Byakuya said softly. "I will give them the good news in the morning."

"Yes," Ichigo said, pushing a lock of blond hair out of Shinji's face. "It wasn't a seizure."

"No. At least, it does not appear that way at present."

"Good," Ichigo breathed, his left hand tightening on Shinji's forearm. He hadn't seized, he was fighting the vent … and the more agitated he got, the more oxygen he needed that the vent would not supply (due to the settings), so the harder he fought. Ichigo didn't want to think about the fact that … this could mean that … maybe …. No. Don't tempt Fate. She could be a vicious bitch when she wanted to be, and Ichigo had felt her barbs before. Numerous times. So he would do all he could for Shinji, but not hold out too much hope. The blond had been in a coma for a long time.

"Perhaps," Byakuya began, "we could meet for breakfast. Discuss the case for a very short while. Discuss other matters that are pertinent to you and I." His calm gray eyes looked down at Ichigo's caramel-brown ones.

"I … yes," Ichigo said, glancing down as his hand patted Shinji's arm. "I think that's a good idea. If you like cinnamon rolls, there's a coffee shop in downtown Karakura that has the best, biggest cinnamon rolls I've ever had." He locked eyes with the doctor.

"I do not like sweets," Byakuya said. "But perhaps, since you have given them such a glowing recommendation, I will try one." His lips twitched – his smile, as Ichigo had learned – and he turned to go, after giving Shinji's monitors another look. At the door, he looked over his shoulder at the oranget. "7:30 in the morning? I will meet you at the employee entrance, if you agree."

"I'll be there," Ichigo said, smiling. Ohhh boy. Tonight was just getting better and better, wasn't it. Holy shit.

From his vantage point across the room, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques frowned. That fucking prick Kuchiki. What the hell. He looked down at Zay, flicking a bit of hair off his brother's face, one hand coming to his mouth when a huge yawn made his jaws crack. In the aftermath, fatigue flooded over him. When was the last time he'd slept for over three hours uninterrupted? He could hardly remember. He left Szayel's bedside and headed for the couch, looking over at Ichigo when he did. "Got a date in the mornin', huh?" he said sarcastically.

"Not a date," Ichigo said defensively.

"Huh. Fuckin' sounded like one to me." He ran a hand through his messy blue hair as he practically fell into a sitting position on the couch. Ichigo was there in a flash.

"Here," he said, pulling the pillow over to the side and picking up the blanket, unfolding it. "You need some rest. Don't worry, I'll watch over Szayel-san. If anything happens, I'll wake you. I promise."

Grimmjow snatched the blanket out of Ichigo's hands and swung himself so that he was laying full-length on the couch, all 6'1" of him. He looked up at Ichigo, frowning. "Don't treat me like everyone else," he said, illogically, it seemed to himself.

"Please rest," Ichigo began, but then Grimmjow reached out with one hand, a sly look on his face, and cupped Ichigo's genitals, squeezing lightly. His arm a blur, Ichigo had Grimmjow's wrist in his hand, pulling his arm out and away from his crotch. "Don't. Not in here, not while I'm on duty. Don't. Ever. Again." His brown eyes bored into Grimm's blue ones.

"Noted," Grimmjow said, yanking his arm away. He frowned up at Ichigo, who now stood over him with his professional mien firmly back in place.

"If you need anything," and with these words his facial expression implied _anything __**clean**_, "I'll be right here." Then he spun on his heels and walked away.

Grimmjow pulled up the blanket and rolled onto his side, facing Zay's bed.

Ichigo went to Szayel's bedside and checked him, turned him carefully onto his left side, adjusted his oxygen mask, and stroked his hair. He leaned in and spoke softly. "Lots of action around here tonight, eh, Szayel-san? Don't worry, all is well. Your brother is here watching over you, and I am here with you, too. Do not worry. Rest. Get better." He ran a hand down Szayel's arm and then clutched his hand, squeezing it gently. "Just get better." A last pat to the cheek and a straightening of the blankets, and then Ichigo turned back to Shinji.

He approached the bed, feeling suddenly weak in the knees. Shinji no longer needed the respirator to breathe! On "assist", the machine would let Shinji's lungs do the work, only helping if the sensors read that his own breathing wasn't sufficient. It would record all instances when an assist was needed, too. Now Shinji rested quietly, his eyes closed. Ichigo approached the bed. Surely Jaegerjaques-san was asleep. A quick glance showed that he certainly _looked_ like he was asleep.

"Shinji," Ichigo said, leaning over the blond male to kiss his cheek. "You are so amazing. I'm not surprised, not one bit." He reached out with one hand and cupped Shinji's cheek, rubbing his chin with his thumb. "I love you … you know that. And I'm so happy," he whispered, then leaned in and kissed Shin's forehead. He pulled back slightly and then rested his forehead against the blond's, eyes closed, a smile on his face. "Come back, Hirako Shinji. All is well." Another kiss to the cheek, and Ichigo straightened up. He carefully rolled Shinji onto his right side and checked his sacrum for redness. Not too bad, but he still put a bit of ointment there just in case, massaging it in and helping with blood return. He emptied the urine and feces bags, and when he straightened back up after hanging the bags under the bed, it was to see that Shinji's eyes were open again.

He took the two steps that would bring him closer, and leaned over the bed rails. He smiled lovingly into those light-brown eyes as he carefully brushed Shin's blond hair out of his face. A slow blink. "You look fuckin' awesome, by the way," Ichigo said, and chuckled happily. He straightened up and turned to go over to the nurse's desk. He had a lot of charting to do about the night's events.

"P-p-p-p-p," a sound from behind him. Ichigo turned around. It wasn't uncommon for coma patients to make sounds, but Shinji had done so only infrequently. "P-p-t-t-p-p." Since Shinji had a trach tube in, he wouldn't be able to speak, but making sounds with his lips was in no way out of the question. Ichigo walked back to his bed, leaned over again, and looked into Shinji's eyes. Slightly unfocused, they only blinked once while Ichigo stood there.

"Any time you wanna wake up, Hirako-san – that would be good. Any time." He smiled. "Love you." Then he walked back to his desk and sat down, logged on, and began the arduous task of logging the night's events.

…

On the couch, Grimmjow closed his eyes. He'd been watching Ichigo through slitted lids, because he couldn't get to sleep when he had a boner. He had to wait for it to calm down. So he watched approvingly as Ichigo calmed his brother (whether it got through to Szayel or not, it had helped Grimm feel a bit better). And he'd watched disapprovingly as the oranget had basically started foreplay with the blond in the other bed.

Ichigo had told him that the patient was _not_ his boyfriend. Then what was with all the "I love you"s. He doubted the slender blond was a relative (wasn't that illegal? For a nurse to take care of a relative in hospital?), so if he wasn't a boyfriend then what was he? There was something going on here. He wasn't saying that there was anything _wrong_, per se, but something was fucking going on and he wanted to god damn well know what it was. He wanted to sit up and roar his questions at the younger man, but remembered where he was and who was laying there, comatose, 8 feet away. Well, next time he had the chance, then, he was definitely getting his fucking answers.

Ichigo got another break, didn't he? He'd go with him, then, smoke a couple cigarettes, and wring some answers out of him. That was the plan. Yeah, that'd fuckin' work. No problem.

…

It didn't work. Grimmjow was asleep within two minutes and missed Ichigo's break. He slept through shift change, too, and when he woke up it was 8 a.m. Ichigo was gone and a big brown-haired nurse was there, towering over him.

"Good morning, Jaegerjaques-san," the tree said in a very deep smooth voice. "I'm Yasutora Shado, the dayshift nurse. You can call me Chad if you wish. I'll be caring for your brother while he's here with us. Is there anything I can do for you this morning?"

"Tell me how my brother is, and then you can tell me where Ichigo went," Grimmjow said before he could censor his mouth. He sat up, rubbed a hand through his hair, and looked at his brother.

"There has been no change in your brother's condition," Chad stated, moving to sit in the RN's chair. "And Kurosaki-san has gone off shift … I'm not sure where he is at present."

"Very PC of ya," Grimmjow said, and then he straightened up. He knew where Ichigo was! That fucking date with that fucking Dr. Kuchiki! He got to his feet, stretched, and reached for the small kit-bag he'd brought with him to the hospital. "Hey … there's a coffee shop downtown? Supposed ta be a good one?"

"The one with the cinnamon rolls," Chad said, nodding.

"What's the name of the place?" Grimmjow said, selecting a shirt to change into, and finding a pair of jeans to match up with it okay.

"It's right in between Karakura Community Park and Mashiba Middle School. The name is _Yoi Yume O_." Chad watched as the blue-haired man walked past him toward the bathroom. A/N – translation: _Sweet Dreams_

"Thanks." It was a public place, right? Anyone can go to a public coffee house, right? Right.

XXX

Ichigo changed quickly after giving Chad report. The tall man's face had broken into a rare smile as he heard the news about Shinji's breakthrough overnight. Ichigo had grinned back at him, then smacked a muscular shoulder as he turned to go. "Take care of him for me, Chad," he said, and hurried off to clock out and get changed.

The locker room had been full of people coming off shift, but Dr. Kuchiki was nowhere to be seen. The beginnings of butterflies began to flutter in Ichigo's stomach as he left the hospital and headed for the train station. What was going to happen? How would Dr. Kuchiki treat him, what would he say? And what would Ichigo say in return? The coffee shop was sure to be crowded this time of day, so nothing … sexy would happen, that was for sure. So at least he was assured of keeping a level head through the conversation. That was the plan, anyway.

Walking into the coffee shop, Ichigo's estimation of the number of customers was correct. The place was packed, conversational buzz smacked him in the face as he entered the brightly decorated shop. Pink and white predominated, with black accents here and there. But both sexes were represented equally – housewives stopping by for a morning snack or breakfast after dropping their kids off at school, night-shift workers stopping off for a snack before going home to bed, businessmen getting coffee on their way to the office.

He spotted Dr. Kuchiki right away. He was at a table over against the wall, a small table for two, sitting with his normal excellent posture in the spindly-legged chair. He raised a hand when he saw Ichigo at the door, and immediately the person behind the counter left his position in mid-order to come out to the table. As Ichigo approached, he heard the owner saying, "Greetings, Kuchiki-sama … how may I serve you today?" with a low bow. Ichigo sat down in the little chair facing the doctor's and nodded his greetings to the two men. He glanced back up at the counter to see that the people waiting in line had noted who the owner had left them for, and were whispering back and forth. Jesus.

"Kurosaki-san, what will you have today?" Byakuya asked softly, those beautiful gray eyes locked on Ichigo's.

"Ah … I'll have a large coffee, cream and sugar, and one of the cinnamon rolls, please," Ichigo said, looking at owner-san.

"Yes, yes," the small man said, bowing again. "And you, Sensei?" You could hear the capital in his voice.

"The same, owner."

"Hai, hai … just one moment please, gentlemen," and with that he scurried away, motioning impatiently at the teenagers behind the counter. Furious movement followed as all three rushed through the doors into the kitchen area (one supposed). Within moments, Ichigo and Byakuya had their orders. Fresh, steaming cinnamon rolls, fresh hot coffee, a sugar bowl with spoon and a pitcher of cream, all in fine china, cloth napkins folded prettily. Ichigo was impressed, usually he had to wait forever in the mornings at this place.

Byakuya didn't act as though he was impressed by anything, he just dipped his spoon into the sugar and began sweetening up his coffee. When he was done, Ichigo did the same. Silence descended as the men sipped. Heaven! Ichigo thought. He smiled over the rim of his cup at the handsome man across from him.

Who picked up his knife and fork and cut a small piece of cinnamon roll off, then placed it into his mouth. His eyebrows rose slightly, he nodded, and took another sip of coffee.

"See? Good, aren't they," Ichigo said, performing the same procedure with his roll, although on his own he'd probably just pick it up and wolf it down.

"They are, indeed, good," Byakuya said when his mouth was empty. "Not cloyingly sweet. More buttery. And I like the cinnamon."

"Mm-hmm," Ichigo replied, since his mouth was full of awesomeness.

"I know that you would probably like my opinion on Hirako-san's prognosis, based on his breakthrough overnight. Although I dislike talking shop outside of work, I realize that this will probably be unavoidable when you and I are … together," the doctor said, pausing and taking another sip of coffee.

_Together? Oh, my_, Ichigo thought, taking another bite of cinnamony goodness.

"So I will tell you that I am guardedly optimistic," Byakuya said. "Although I know that you are aware it could go either way, I believe that Hirako-san's chances of recovery are over 50%."

That was good. Normally 50/50 was as much as anyone could tell, so if Dr. Kuchiki was leaning toward the positive, that was really good. Ichigo grinned at the man. "Excellent," he said.

"Yes."

Silence descended while the cinnamon rolls on their plates grew smaller, bite by bite. The owner himself came to refill their coffee cups when needed.

"We have subjects to discuss, Ichigo-kun," Byakuya said softly, after the owner left with his carafe. "I know that you must have … concerns … related to my new relationship with Rukia, and my now-sundered relationship with my ex-wife."

"Ex-wife? Already?" Ichigo blurted, then blushed. "S-sorry … I …." He dropped his forehead into his hand, then looked up again. "Sometimes my mouth operates on automatic."

"It is all right," Byakuya smoothly replied. "Yes, already. Wheels turn faster when the judges scent nobility. I only state that because it is true, not because I agree with the policy. Still, it suited my purposes, and those of my ex-wife as well."

"May I ask … what happened, Sensei? If it's not prying too much."

"It is not, especially when you take into account the position I wish you to occupy in my life from now on," Byakuya said, locking eyes with Ichigo.

_Holy shit_.

"We married for political reasons, despite my same-sex leanings. She was willing to be the proper wife of the inheritor of the Kuchiki legacy, and the mother of an heir to continue that legacy … at least at first." Another bite, another sip. Ichigo did the same, listening intently. "However, the heir has not appeared, despite my … efforts … in that direction, and my ex-wife made the unfortunate mistake of taking a lover. A semi-amicable discussion disclosed her unwillingness to give up the man, so a divorce was unavoidable. And so you see me here, a divorced man whose ex-wife now lives in South Africa." A small twitch of his lips accompanied the last sentence.

"Well … at least things went off quickly and … nicely?" Ichigo asked, eyebrows up.

"They did," the black-haired man replied. "Does this cover any concerns you might have about my marital status?"

"Yes, sensei," Ichigo said. "And you said … you have 'same-sex leanings'? Are you saying you're gay, or—"

"I believe that term would be appropriate," Byakuya said. "I do not find women appealing sexually."

Ichigo nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. Cute, pretty, sweet, funny … but sexually? No thanks.

"Now … about Rukia. I understand you have a history with her that goes beyond that of friendship. Will you explain?"

Ichigo told Byakuya the whole story. He nodded at intervals, drank his coffee, pushed his plate with half a cinnamon roll on it toward Ichigo, who smiled at the action. Finally, "… so when you saw us at Seireitei, it was the first time I'd seen Rukia since she'd disappeared from Karakura Town. And I think we were finally able to move past that, er, incident. But I seriously don't know how she'd react if she found out that I was, you know …."

"Yes. Unfortunate timing. It is … slightly vexing, to say the least," Byakuya said, although his serene face didn't reveal vexation. "I, personally, have never been in a situation akin to this. Have you?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Hmm," Ichigo hummed around a mouthful of roll. After swallowing, "no. Although, well … you weren't really wanting a, um, public thing with me, are you Sensei? I mean –"

"I understand." He looked at Ichigo over the rim of his coffee cup. "Perhaps not at first, not public, no. But who is to say what the future may hold?"

Ichigo just nodded. What the fuck was he talking about? It sounded like he was talking about a future together! Surely not.

"Are you … out of the closet, so to speak, Ichigo-kun?"

"One foot in, one foot out," Ichigo said, smiling. "My family knows, my friends know, some of the staff at the hospital knows, but totally publicly? – no."

"My situation is similar, but my _position_ is a more public one than yours. I count you the lucky one in that comparison." But he waved that away. "However … " his eyes bored into Ichigo's, "… I realize I broke protocol when I accosted you in the locker room last night when you came in. I should have first of all _asked you out_, I believe. I hope you can overlook what I did when I tell you that it was the way you looked at me that brought that on. Your eyes _devoured_, Ichigo-kun … do you know that you do that?"

"No," Ichigo said, color flaring in his cheeks.

"It is extraordinary. I felt literally compelled to touch you," he added softly, raising the cup to his lips again.

Ichigo hid behind his cup. Whoa. _Down, penis, down. Be a good boy and be civilized for once_.

"But back to topic. I believe with time Rukia's feelings will cool. Already her hurts are salved, the apology has been offered and received, and she is very well aware that you – and I – are both gay. But what would you suggest as far as my sister is concerned?" He looked at Ichigo.

"Well –"

Byakuya held up a finger. "Wait. Your pardon for the interruption. I am getting ahead of myself. I apologize. First I must ask: Ichigo-kun, are you interested in seeing me?"

"Yes." It was simple as that. How long had Ichigo been salivating over Byakuya Kuchiki? It seemed like forever.

"Good," the dark-haired man purred, and his eyes caressed Ichigo's face. Ichigo's breathing sped up in reaction. "Now then – what would you suggest, about Rukia."

"My first gut instinct says 'tell her'," Ichigo admitted. "But what if we do that, and for some reason we just don't hit it off? It would be stirring the pot for nothing."

"Very admirable of you. Forward-thinking and realistic. I quite like that, Ichigo-kun."

"So, um … let's just kinda … hold off and see what happens? I mean … you never know, right?" Ichigo could feel the blush heat up his cheeks, even as his dick stirred in his pants. _Crap_. He wriggled a bit in his chair, unconsciously, looking down at his coffee cup and then back up again.

Byakuya was looking at him, avidly. "You … are very cute, Ichigo-tan," he said, quietly. "Come closer, let me tell you something." He leaned forward, which caused Ichigo to lean forward over the table, too, turning his head so that Sensei could speak into his ear. "It is just this," the older man continued, speaking softly, "I am hard for you, right now. Painfully hard." His tongue slid out and gave Ichigo's ear a salacious lick.

Ichigo jumped and turned his head, but he didn't back away. A very low moan strangled itself in his throat as his eyelids fluttered closed. Thank goodness he was facing the wall now, because his face was –

"Wanton," Byakuya said into his other ear. "Your face … you must control your features or I will be compelled to throw you onto the floor and fuck you into the carpet."

Ichigo turned his head back to look at the doctor, who was staring back at him, eyes half-closed, nostrils flaring slightly as they caught and inhaled Ichigo's scent. _Public! You're in public, idiot! And this man's reputation needs to be protected_! But he was frozen, unable to move. _Go ahead, fuck me into the carpet! Do it! I want it!_

Byakuya backed away slightly, his left eyebrow slightly elevated, licking his lower lip with the tip of a pink tongue. "That _face_," he murmured. "You are dangerous, Kuraosaki. Here … drink your coffee, it is getting cold." He pushed the cup toward Ichigo's hand.

"I—" Ichigo had to swallow and clear his throat, that had come out like a growl. "I think _you're_ the dangerous one, Sensei," he said, regaining control slowly, picking up the coffee cup and downing what remained in it.

"Then we are, perhaps, well-matched," he said, adjusting his position in the chair.

Ichigo imagined why he needed to do that and his mouth watered. _Relax, relax!_

"Are you finished?" Byakuya asked, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin and placing it back on the table.

"Yes."

"Come. I will take you home."

A slight moment of panic when Ichigo remembered that Starrk Coyote and Ichimaru Gin might be lazing in his apartment, waiting to have another semi-threesome. "I'll use the facilities first, if you don't mind, and meet you outside?"

"Certainly. Take your time."

Ichigo got up and walked straight for the men's room. Once inside, he took out his cell phone and sent a text message to Starrk.

Ichigo: Where are you guys?

Starrk: Well, hello to you, too!

Ichigo: Sorry! Hi, how are you, how is Gin? Now where are you guys, please?

Starrk: This is Gin now. Hi, cutie. You make my tongue hard, you know that?

Ichigo: Hello! Thanks for the interesting bento. 0_o

Starrk: LMAO! Knew you'd like it, ne?

Ichigo: Like is too weak a word.

Starrk: This is Starrk again. So, wassup? I was takin' a nap.

Ichigo: Shocker. Really, seriously, where are you guys?

Starrk: Relax, man … we're on the train, on our way back to Tokyo. Gin got called, some kinda emergency at work.

Ichigo: Well, damn. Okay. Good to see you guys, please come again soon!

Starrk: We will. Heheh

Starrk: This is Gin again. How's tomorrow?

Ichigo: Huh?

Starrk: Kidding! Bye, nice meetin' you, ne?

Ichigo: You too. Bye.

Starrk: Bye Ichigo. And thank you … again. You're the best.

Starrk: This is Gin. He meant SECOND best.

Ichigo: funny! Bye, you two. Have fun! I sure did! :D

Starrk: Bye.

Hey, just in case, right? I mean, you never knew. Ichigo put his cellie back into his pocket, used the facilities, washed his hands and made a beeline for the door. Outside, waiting at curbside, a deep black Ferrari FXX purred. A crowd had gathered, looking at the amazing vehicle. Ichigo stopped in his tracks. Only 30 of these cars had been made. How …? Whatever. He approached and opened the door, leaning down to look inside.

"Get in," Byakuya said, with his little understated smile.

"Gladly!" Ichigo said, climbing in and putting on the seat harness. "Wow. Just – wow."

"Glad you like it," Byakuya said, pulling smoothly away from the curb.

"I do. And it suits you perfectly, Sensei. _Perfectly_." Ichigo was half-turned toward the doctor, grinning.

"I will take that as a compliment," the raven-haired man replied.

…

On the sidewalk, having just arrived at _Yoi Yume O_ as Ichigo was climbing into the Ferrari, Grimmjow frowned and cursed a blue streak. God dammit! Now what? He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Cab. Get a cab! He leaped to the edge of the sidewalk and began waving at every cab he saw. FINALLY one pulled over. Grimm clambered in, slammed the door shut, and shouted, "follow that Ferrari!"

"What, you kiddin', man?" The driver was peering back at him in the rearview mirror, squinting near-sightedly.

"Kiddin'? If you catch up to that Ferrari and keep it in sight, I'll give you 100,000 yen. On TOP of your fee."

In answer, the little Toyota screeched away from the curb.

…

The Ferrari's ride was amazing. The interior was gorgeous and so was the driver. It got to the point where Ichigo couldn't keep his eyes off the man behind the wheel. Was he really going to get to make out with Sensei? It seemed so! Excitement skittered along his spine, the knowledge that something long-desired and long-awaited was about to finally come to pass. "Sensei," he said, licking his lips and swallowing hard.

"Ichigo-kun, you are making that face again."

"Yes."

"Are we near your apartment?"

"Getting nearer by the second," Ichigo said. "Turn right here. Four blocks straight ahead, then turn right again. Two blocks over, on the right."

"You are near the Karasu River."

"Yes." Ichigo leaned forward. Byakuya reached over and slid a hand along his cheek, up into his hair, and down onto his neck. _These hands_, Ichigo thought. _Gods_.

The hand slipped down onto Ichigo's shoulder then down his arm, squeezing lightly, rubbing, caressing. Ichigo picked it up and kissed it softly, turning it over and licking the palm. Byakuya shot him a glance, taking the second right turn.

"We are near," he said.

"Yes."

Byakuya's hand pulled away from Ichigo, only to reassert itself in Ichigo's lap, petting the achingly hard bulge there. Ichigo moaned out loud, head lolling back, eyes closing. _Oh, man_. He wasn't going to last very long.

"Parking garage," Ichigo said, panting. "I have a space, even though I don't have a car. Stop at the entrance so I can use my key card."

"Gladly," Byakuya said, doing just that, smoothly and carefully guiding the beautiful piece of machinery as Ichigo directed. Soon they were pulling to a stop in the dark underground parking garage. Byakuya cut off the engine and popped his safety harness. Ichigo did the same. He had turned to say something, his hand on the door handle, when his face was clasped between those two beautiful hands, holding him steady as Byakuya's lips took possession of his mouth.

The kiss didn't start out gentle. It was full-on passion from the word go. "Nn … Kurosaki," Byakuya murmured before plunging in for more fiery kissing, tongue and lips and teeth, igniting Ichigo's body until he was hot inside and out.

_The way he said his name!_

Ichigo was shaking, his eyes were rolled back in his head … you didn't get your fondest desires fulfilled every fuckin' day, y'know. "Sensei … Sensei …" he moaned over and over, whenever he got the chance. It made him feel like a naughty teenager, crushing on his teacher. Nice.

"It …" kissing kissing, so good, so sweet, "it has been far too long since I felt the strength and fire of a man," Byakuya groaned, his hands straying up inside Ichigo's shirt, feeling his abs and lightly taunting his nipples. Sliding his tongue into Ichigo's mouth, feeling that answering shattering feeling deep inside as Ichigo began to suck it. He pinched Ichigo's nipples, at first softly, but then increasingly rough as Ichigo's moans amped up in intensity. "I do not know if I can wait to reach your apartment," Byakuya said roughly, licking Ichigo's neck, nipping it softly.

"I … I don't know what to do. I want you. But I don't want to dirty your car. And I want more room. But … I want you," Ichigo stated the dilemma in no uncertain terms.

"God yes," Byakuya said. "More room. Sounds good. Let's go!" It was as emotional as Ichigo had ever heard the man. He pulled himself away from Ichigo, yanked open his door, and stepped out, the front of his pants tented by his furious erection. When Ichigo joined him, he looked down at himself. "I do not believe I've been this hard in almost 5 years."

"Then let's not waste it," Ichigo said, taking Byakuya by the hand and pulling him toward the elevator, rubbing his crotch excitedly with the other. "Sensei … " Kissing passionately while waiting for the elevator, falling into it, pressing up against each other, writhing, hips flexing. Ichigo looked up into Sensei's face and was stricken by the beauty of the man. Parted lips gusted breaths, half-lidded eyes gazed heatedly into his, a pink tongue licked his slightly swollen lips.

A bell dinged. The doors opened. Ichigo ran out, pulling Sensei with him, to hell with decorum! He laughed out loud and ran down the hallway to his apartment, using his keycard, throwing open the door, closing and locking it behind Sensei – and then Byakuya was _on him_. Buttons skittered over the floor as Byakuya took hold of Ichigo's shirt and tore it open down the front. He gazed at Ichigo's exposed chest, then touched it with both hands, dragging them down across hard nipples to finger toned abs. "How long have I been sneaking looks at your body, Ichigo-chan, while you changed in the locker room? Far too long."

"You? I've been doing it longer!" Ichigo reached out and swiftly unbuttoned Byakuya's shirt, peeling it completely off him, marveling at the unmarred white skin revealed underneath. "Gods," he muttered. "Just … let me touch you. Finally."

"As you wish," Byakuya said, voice slightly gravelly.

Ichigo did just that. He stroked that beautiful soft skin, enjoying the play of muscles underneath. His erection threatened to burst out of his jeans – either that or pop off inside them – he was more turned on that he could remember being in a long time.

_Really? How about earlier tonight, hmm? With him?_

Ichigo shook his head. Byakuya's fingers were at his waist, undoing the button that topped his jeans. Then the zipper. Then willing hands slid down inside his pants, stroking, petting, squeezing … and brought Ichigo's cock up and out, starting up a stroking rhythm that had Ichigo panting in, like, seven seconds. "S-sensei!" he said, urgency coloring his tone.

"Yess," Byakuya said, looking down at him, watching his face. He back-walked Ichigo to the couch and pushed him down onto it, then stripped off his jeans. "I need to be inside you. I apologize for the rush … but Kurosaki, I need to fuck you." His voice was harsh, growling … when he took of his pants his erection was huge, purple with blood, it looked painful to Ichigo – that good pain that was so akin to pleasure.

"Please," Ichigo said, sliding off the couch to kneel in front of the handsome black-haired man. "Please," he said again as his lips touched that pulsing cock, kissing the head. He cupped the man's balls – so tight! – in one hand, he licked two fingers of his other hand and slid them inside himself as his tongue slid teasingly up the underside of Byakuya's dick. Mmm, yesss. Finally. Finally! Pre-cum drizzled down the side and Ichigo licked it up, looking up to see that Byakuya was watching avidly, his eyes half-closed, his panting mouth open, his fingers buried in Ichigo's orange spikes, watching as Ichigo prepared himself for Byakuya's cock.

"Yes," Sensei said. Yes to everything. All of it. Ichigo in his naked glory, orange pubic hair that was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever seen. Golden skin, freckled on the shoulders and cheeks, flushing with desire. Byakuya's body thrummed as a wave of desire flashed through him. Never had it been this way with his wife. Never even fucking _close_.

"Sensei," Ichigo moaned, getting back on the couch, legs spread in invitation, lazily stroking his own erection. "I'm ready," he announced, head lolling back on his neck, eyes glazed with desire, pupils dilating as he looked up into Byakuya's gray ones. He saw Sensei visibly shake as another wave of desire thrummed through him. He got to his knees between Ichigo's legs and reached out to bury the fingers of one hand in that orange hair, pulling him forward to meet his lips in a hot kiss.

The other hand wrapped around Ichigo's waist and pulled him forward so that their erections came into blistering contact. Both men groaned and looked down, seeing their erect cocks pressing together, the contact was amazing, Byakuya almost came from the visual alone. With great self-discipline he held back, then reached down and pulled his cock down so that it pointed straight at the object it desired: Ichigo's twitching pink hole.

"Please," Ichigo practically had a mantra going. "Please, Sensei!" He pushed forward a little bit, bringing himself into contact with that swollen head, gasping as they touched.

Byakuya could no longer restrain himself. He lined up, pushed forward gently, then as soon as Ichigo's sphincter was breached, he pushed all the way forward in one long smooth motion, burying himself in that tight tight heat. He groaned out loud, his head falling forward onto Ichigo's shoulder, as the younger man's arms and legs came up around him.

"Yess … oh yes yes yes," Ichigo moaned, his insides twitching around the hard intrusion. So good!

Byakuya began to move, trying to hold on, take it slow at first, make it last … but he just couldn't. His renowned self-control fled in the face of this almost-forgotten pleasure, and he was almost immediately plunging in and out of Ichigo, who was shouting in his ear.

"Yes! Sensei! More, deeper, Sensei please! YES!"

He was _unleashed_. Unhinged. Byakuya Kuchiki fucked Ichigo into the couch, flesh slapping together, sweat dripping off his face, butocks flexing as he drove into the younger man. Mother fucker, it was so good, it's been so long, it was _so_. Fucking. GOOD.

"Kurosaki," he panted into Ichigo's ear.

And that was it for Ichigo. He came, pow! Just like that, no build-up, he popped off as soon as that voice growled his name into his ear. "Sensei … I – I'm coming! Sensei! Ah nn YES!" The pleasure exploded in his pelvis, shot outward and upward, and he shot cum into his own face it went so far, as he hung on for dear life to Byakuya's shoulders, shaking and shouting with his orgasm.

For Byakuya, it was when Ichigo's cum hit his face, and he leaned over to lick some up … the taste he'd craved for so many years (was it six? No way, really?) … when it hit his tongue and he swallowed it down … he felt the pleasure coil up inside him like a tightly-wound spring, and then it released in wave after wave of such intense pleasure that he shouted wordlessly, head back, eyes closed, hanging on tightly to Ichigo's waist, feeling his arms and legs pull him forward, Ichigo's cum smearing between their bellies and chests. He pumped his seed deep inside Ichigo, spurt after spurt, his balls cramping as they got tighter and tighter, head swimming as he gasped for breath.

Slowly it abated. He collapsed onto Ichigo, who caught and held him, both of them panting, sweaty skin sliding as arms and legs rearranged themselves. "Sensei," Ichigo said, kissing Byakuya's neck, running a hand through the sweat on his perfect back. He gave the older man's cock an affectionate squeeze with his rectum, and laughed softly when Byakuya grunted, "uh!" and shook in his arms. He petted him, kissing and wringing those little "uhs" out of him, until Sensei pushed himself up on his arms and said, "you are …." Kissing. Tongue against tongue, tasting, less passion and more feeling.

"_Amazing_."

XXX

Outside the apartment building where Grimmjow Jaegerjaques had seen fucking Dr. Kuchiki's Ferrari disappear into an underground parking garage, he waited, staring up at the windows that shone in the morning sunshine. Too slow. He'd been too slow all fucking morning. And now that fucker had Ichigo in his clutches. Son of a BITCH. He'd tried the door, he couldn't even get into the building without a key card. Shit shit shit.

He stared up at the windows, ignoring the looks from mothers-with-babies who passed him, eyeing him suspiciously. Which one was Ichigo's? No way to find out. Fuck. He turned around and saw that the cabbie was waiting for him. "Oh, so now yer my new best friend, huh? Well, hotshot … what's say you take me ta my next stop, quick as you can, okay? And then I'll give ya that fucking 100 thou. Sound good? Here, what the hell," he said, getting back into the cab, "here's the first half of it." He fluttered bills into the front seat.

"Get me there before 9:30 and I'll give ya a blow job," he muttered to himself in the back seat, rubbing a hand over his face, trying not to imagine what was going on in Ichigo's apartment at that. Very. Moment.

"What was that?" the little driver asked, looking at him in the rear view.

"Nothin'. Jesus, nothin'! Drive, Jeeves, fer god's sake, get me the fuck away from this place!" he slumped down in the seat, lit up a cigarette (when Jeeves began to gripe, he shut up real quick when Grimmjow fluttered more bills down on his head), and began making alternate plans. This time, it called for the big guns.

Oh, fuck yeah.

XXX

**End Chapter 7.**

**Didja like it? I hope so! XD**

**More to come soon!**

**Ahvienda**


	8. Chapter 8 Night and Day

**Chapter 8 – Night and Day**

**Warnings: yes, when I say this is a yaoi fic, I really mean it. Thus, gay sex is gonna happen, and frequently. I like it that way. XD Also: swearing, adult situations, death**

**Discl: Lest I repeat myself – Byakuya, I love you. But I don't own you. Just like Grimmjow! Dammit, I don't own any of it!**

**A/N: Couple things about the last chapter … I realized I had had Byakuya and Ichigo make a date where they were supposed to meet outside the employee entrance at 0730, then ignored it as they met at the coffee shop. *smack forehead* I'll fix it someday! ;) Also, you may have noticed (if you know anything about yaoi manga, anime, etc) that I don't normally screw around with the necessities of lube and condoms. This is an author's cognizant choice – I don't wanna disrupt the romantic flow by interrupting for these things. It doesn't mean I don't think they're necessary – far from it! – I just rarely include them in my romantic fiction. Which I get to do since I'm, like, the author. ;) **

**But on we go ….**

"Kurosaki-kun …" Byakuya Kuchiki murmured, his voice like molten honey, his breath puffing lightly on Ichigo's face, "… put your arms and legs around me." His raven hair hung down around his face, falling forward to tickle Ichigo's ears and neck, forming a dark curtain that framed the older man's aristocratic features.

Picture it, if you will: Ichigo lay on his back on the floor, naked but for a sheen of perspiration, knees up. Byakuya was above him, on his knees and elbows, also completely nude. Ichigo had been unable to drag his eyes away when, after their first bout of love-making, Byakuya had unselfconsciously walked into the kitchen area to get a bottle of water for them to share. Ichigo had watched through half-closed eyes as the man had walked away from him, then stared shamelessly as the light from the fridge shone upon him. His body was perfection: slender but muscular, with long legs, a trimmed patch of black pubic hair, and pale unmarred skin. In the near-darkness of Ichigo's apartment, he looked like a marble sculpture, one that offered the artist's view of male perfection. Correction: _aroused_ male perfection.

His erection had not diminished after coming the first time. Byakuya was not surprised at this – it had been so very, very long since he'd been with a man, and being with Ichigo Kurosaki was something he'd fantasized about for quite some time. Sitting on the couch, they'd finished the water and then looked at each other. Ichigo couldn't stop staring at the man next to him … his, well, _beauty_ was so stunning. Long silken black hair … understated muscles that rippled with each movement … that elegant cock, jutting up from his hips.

"Kuchiki-sensei," he had said, voice cracking, and then Byakuya's hand was in his hair, gripping, pulling him in for a slow sweet kiss. When he finally pulled away, Ichigo was shaking as heat built in his pelvis. Byakuya got to his feet and helped Ichigo up, pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him, their bodies pressing tightly in all the right places – more amazing kissing, lips and teeth and tongue. Ichigo was barely aware of movement until he felt the floor underneath his back, all his awareness was zeroed in on that man and his _mouth_. All the desperation of their first time was gone. Byakuya had raised himself up off Ichigo for a moment, pulled up his left leg by gripping it behind the knee, and lined up. Ichigo relaxed with effort, and moaned shamelessly when that hard member penetrated him and slid home, buried to the hilt. Byakuya let out a soft gasp as he stared into Ichigo's eyes, his pupils so dilated that his eyes appeared black.

"Ahhh, yes," Ichigo whispered, his face reflecting both the pleasure and the pain he was feeling, without realizing it he'd raised his other leg and bent that knee, too, in order to take in all of that luscious penis.

But Byakuya didn't move right away. He petted and kissed Ichigo until he felt the tension drain out of the younger male, felt his opening soften and relax. Then he had begun a slow grinding movement with his hips as he stroked the fingertips of one hand down Ichigo's chest and belly. After he had Ichigo panting and moaning with helpless pleasure, that's when he'd spoken those words: _put your arms and legs around me_.

Ichigo did, expecting another wild joining like they'd had previously. And that would be fucking _fine_, he was up for anything Byakuya Kuchiki wanted to dish out. Instead, Sensei slowly pulled almost all the way out, until the rim of his head met Ichigo's sphincter, then slid just as slowly back in. Again. Again. _Again_. Ichigo could feel every inch … the pain was _gone_, all he could feel now was sweet, sweet pleasure. "Ah .. ah .. ahh," Ichigo murmured with each slow thrust, his eyes closed and ecstasy reflected on his face.

A slight shift in Byakuya's position as he continued making love to the orange-haired male below him. Another alteration in position, switching the angle … another long slow thrust as he watched Ichigo's face.

"Ah!" Ichigo's eyes popped open. "N-not there!" he yelped before thinking, tightening his hold on the older man.

"Yes. There." With a kiss, Byakuya pulled out and slid in again, the head of his cock lightly rubbing against Ichigo's prostate gland. He was using all his discipline to hold himself back, to keep from pounding Ichigo into the floor, to keep from coming too soon. He wanted to make an impression on Ichigo, give him something to remember and think about the next time he was alone. Basically, he wanted to do what Grimmjow wanted to do: imprint himself on Ichigo Kurosaki, make him _his_. Adjusting his angle again slightly, on this thrust not only did the head impact Ichigo's prostate, but Byakuya's entire dick slid along the sensitive gland, stroking it gently, caressing it in keeping with the soft, slow fuck the older man was dishing out. The oranget's eyes squeezed shut as Byakuya licked his lips and sucked on the lower one, humming deep in his throat.

Ichigo's body thrummed as his rectum clenched around Byakuya's hardness. His desire was spiraling up and he wanted … he wanted … what the hell _did_ he want? Their first union had been satisfyingly unhinged, a good pounding fuck that had made him explode within minutes. This was almost torture … slow controlled thrusts, sliding maddeningly along his prostate … Ichigo's cock was hard as a rock, twitching, weeping pre-seminal fluid freely. "Ah .. ah .. nn," he moaned, and then opened his eyes, lifting his head off the floor to look at Byakuya … really _look_ at him.

A light coating of sweat made his alabaster skin glisten in the dim lighting. Head down, he was apparently looking down between their bodies, watching his cock slide in and out of Ichigo, watching the redhead's dick twitch and dribble pre-cum onto his belly. So Ichigo looked, too. A sharp spike of desire made his stomach muscles clench. God damn Kuchiki-sensei was a gorgeous sexy man. _Just look at him – _look_ at him! Jesus Christ! _The muscles in his abdomen stood out in stark relief as his body undulated, slow and sensuous, his hips angled to provide that prostate-caressing slide with each thrust. _Poetry in motion_ … the words resounded in Ichigo's mind, nonsensically, as he licked his lips and couldn't tear his eyes away. Beautiful. Byakuya Kuchiki was absolutely beautiful, both visually and … in _motion_.

Ichigo slowly slid his hands down Byakuya's back, feeling the muscles in play, until his fingers met the twin flexing globes of the man's perfect ass. "Ahh," it was wrenched from his mouth as his fingers clenched, released, then clenched again. Byakuya's head came up as he looked into Ichigo's eyes.

"Mmm," he hummed, giving a more emphatic thrust with his hips … but then with visible effort he returned to the slow, sweet rhythm. "Ichigo … Ichigo-kun …" he moaned, sweat glistening on his upper lip. "Ah, yess … you feel so good," whispered as his eyelids fluttered closed. But then suddenly he sat up, taking Ichigo's wrists in his hands as he leaned forward, pulling the oranget's arms up over his head, pressing his wrists against the floor. Ichigo clenched harder with his legs, locking his ankles behind Byakuya. Long and lean, the older man's body slid along his, sweat making it a slippery erotic sensation as he continued that oh-so-hot, languid rhythm. Ichigo's eyes opened wide … he'd been about to grab his own cock and stroke one out, but now the slow build-up was a kind of torture.

"S-sensei … please," he groaned, panting, straining upwards to lick the older man's jaw, biting his neck and tonguing his Adam's apple, sucking it, trying to goad the man into abandoning his control and fuck him, goddammit!

"Kurosaki-kun," Byakuya murmured, "what is it? Hmm?" He slid that cock in again. "What do you want?" Out, inch by maddening inch.

"Please … ahh … I need .. I need …" Ichigo shook with desire as a wanton moan worked its way out of his throat. Sweat began to mix with the pre-seminal fluid pooling on his belly. His cock was hard as an oak, his rectum twitched and tightened around Byakuya's dick as it entered again, rubbing the whole length along Ichigo's sweet spot, a little harder this time.

"You need?" Byakuya prompted, not interrupting the slow fuck, and captured Ichigo's lips just as the younger male was about to answer. The kiss was searing, deep and soulful, and just when Ichigo thought it might propel him into coming, Byakuya broke it, never altering or halting his stride. So good. So fucking _good_!

"I know what you need, Ichigo," Byakuya whispered on the out-slide … and then he rammed it home, striking Ichigo's prostate dead-on. A slow slide out, then he snapped his hips forward and nailed the gland again. Ichigo shouted, body convulsing, straining against the hands that still held his wrists over his head, legs tightening even more around the raven-haired man's waist. He couldn't help it – he began to move his hips, goading the older man, trying to egg him on but it didn't. Fucking. Work!

An untold number of reps wherein Ichigo was still unable to break that iron will, try though he may. "Sensei! Please! Ah!"

"You have to say it." Slowly – out. The smack of flesh as Byakuya rammed it back in, all the way, one smooth quick motion. "Say it … say it now, Kurosaki-kun." Control. But slipping. Sweat dripping off his face, sprinkling Ichigo's neck. Out, maddening! IN – yes! God yes!

Straining against the iron hands that held his arms in place, Ichigo stared pleadingly up at the raven-haired man who apparently intent on driving him insane. His voice was hoarse as he said, "Sensei, please … please just _fuck me_ … please God please," as his dick was trapped between their bodies on the out-stroke, sweet pressure and friction, so good, so good, making him arch up and groan out loud.

"_You_ do it." Growled. Those hands yanked on his wrists, pulling Ichigo upright and onto Byakuya's thighs. The older man sat back and straightened out his legs as he pulled Ichigo in closer onto his lap, burying his cock even further up inside, making Ichigo shout his approval out loud. "Show me your fire, Ichigo-kun," Byakuya groaned as his hands grasped Ichigo's buttocks, spreading them apart and simultaneously pushing him even further down onto his throbbing hard cock.

"AH!" Ichigo was momentarily stunned, both by the change in position and the depth of the dick in his ass, but he quickly recovered. He was free! Grasping Byakuya by the shoulders, he raised himself up, slid himself back down, finding his position and angle … and then it was _on_. "Yes … ah, yes yes yes," Ichigo moaned, then yelped with surprise as a tight fist gripped his erection, thumb rubbing the sweet spot at the base of the head.

Byakuya's other hand slid up Ichigo's flank, up his back to his shoulder blade, then back down again. "Show me your fire," he repeated in a whisper, and began stroking Ichigo's cock in time with his movements.

"Nn! Nn ah!" Ichigo was practically bouncing on Byakuya's lap, impaling himself over and over in a paroxysm of pleasure. Desire. Sensuality. Heat.

"I'm close," Byakuya groaned. "Kurosaki … Kurosaki …."

His … his voice … "Sensei! C-coming! Ah God, 'm coming!" Ichigo's body convulsed again, slowing, but Byakuya's hand slid once again to his buttocks and he kept him moving. With the other hand he clenched Ichigo's dick tightly, at the base, holding off his orgasm, until … oh, yeah. Oh fuck yes. Until _now_. As the heat exploded within him, he let go of Ichigo's cock and buried himself inside that hot tightness. Ichigo shouted as he began to come, his dick twitching as cum spurted out between them. Pulling the younger man's head down, he kissed him passionately, sucking his tongue and sliding _his_ tongue against the underside.

Moaning non-stop, the pleasure white-hot inside his body and his mind, Ichigo clung to the man who held him tightly on his lap. The sensation of Byakuya's cum filling him up inside seemed to extend his orgasm … and the feeling of his tongue being sucked … and those hands clutching him tightly … and his cock trapped tightly between their abdomens … and the answering moans from the man he'd wanted for so, so long. "Mm … mm mm!" He shuddered, moaning, pressing himself tightly against Byakuya's hard body as his orgasm hit its crescendo, and then he was feeling that languid pleasant afterglow as it slowly, slowly died away. "God … ah, God," he said, breathing hard, head back on his neck, eyes closed, mouth open to suck in as much oxygen as he could.

Byakuya was breathing hard, too … big time. He hung onto Ichigo, his head down on the younger male's chest, eyes closed, hands still clenched on those oh-so-talented hips. Why had he married that whore and denied this side of himself for so long? Stupid question, he knew why: duty. Duty to his house and his name and his family. Willing all thoughts of his failed marriage aside, he basked in the aftershocks as his dick twitched inside the younger man. Amazing. He hadn't been lying or even remotely exaggerating when he'd called Ichigo that. He took in a deep shuddering breath, then blew it out and raised his head, looking up to find Ichigo gazing down at him, petting his hair, with a look on his face of utter satisfaction.

Disregarding the sweat and cum drying on their bodies, Byakuya's softening member still inside Ichigo's ass, they kissed.

XXX

Son of a fucking _bitch_. Grimmjow fumed as he let himself into Szayel's house, slamming the door behind him and shedding his clothes as he stomped through the house on the way to his brother's large, ornate bathroom. (Really, he'd never seen anything like it … it reminded him of the prefect's bathroom on that one wizard-boy movie. Harry Potter, that was it. Grimm had watched them because he was an Alan Rickman fan.) "Lavish" was a good word for Zay's huge gold and black marble washroom, with its wide deep sunken bathtub, separate whirlpool bath, multi-jet stand-alone shower, and frosted-glass picture windows and skylights. Tossing his clothes aside as he entered, he turned on the shower and waited until it was nice and hot, then got into the deluge.

He shampooed his hair twice, the fragrance of the pricey stuff reminding him of Zay. He'd be going back to the hospital today, but first he had to pick up his parents in order to take them in with him. That reminded him of something, too – the talk with Dr. Kuchiki was today. They'd be discussing taking that fucking tube out of Zay's throat. Grimmjow frowned as he rinsed the expensive shampoo off his hair. Dammit. Somehow he'd have to find a way to squelch his personal feelings about that fucking black-haired bastard and remember that he was his brother's doctor … and that he came with a reputation that was sterling. Shit.

The prick had stolen Ichigo right out from under him. Obviously the two had a history, even if it was a benign one, since they'd known each other professionally for what was probably a matter of years. It was hard to win against something like that. But goddammit, he was going to try. Something about Ichigo Kurosaki had gotten under his skin … he wanted to be his one and only … and that wasn't something that Grimm had ever really fought for before. Oh, sure, he'd been in relationships. But he'd just sort-of fallen into them, none of them had been anything planned on his part. If the sex was good and their personalities didn't clash like oil and water – sure, okay, why not?

But this was different. And he couldn't even really put his finger on exactly what it was that _was_ different about the orange-haired man. Sure he was good-looking. And fuckin' sexy, definitely. And his reactions when they'd been together, doin' a dual handjob on the hospital roof – damnation. His dick twitched when he thought about it, remembering the submissively acquiescing Ichigo, his blushing cheeks and his, um … obedience. Whew. Settle down. He wasn't about to jack one off in the shower, a man like Grimmjow Jaegerjacques didn't _need_ to do the solitary tango. He had willing partners all over the world, with more standing in line, for fuck's sake. Frowning, he rinsed off and turned off the water, toweled himself dry, then redressed in the clothes he'd only had on for an hour or so before the shower.

His mother and father were due in about a half-hour. Grimmjow raided the fridge and made himself a concoction that consisted of yogurt, two sliced bananas, granola, coconut, slivered almonds, and a mashed-up chunk of angelfood cake. It looked like hell but it tasted great. He took the bowl into the living room and ate it standing at the huge wall of windows on the northeast side of the house, watching birds at the feeder and birdbath. He wanted to consider the "Ichigo/Kuchiki Problem" further, but knew he didn't have time to really make a plan of attack. Instead, he thought about Zay and his hopes for the day's meeting. Dr. Kuchiki. Doctor. Kuchiki. Not "the fucking prick who stole my future lover", but "the doctor who would be responsible for bringing my brother back to the world of the awake". He finished the … stuff in the bowl, belched on his way to the kitchen, rinsed out the bowl and put it in the dishwasher, then went out on the front porch to smoke, give Neliel a call to check in, and wait for his parents.

XXX

"It's getting late," Byakuya said as Ichigo gave him a hand-up off the floor. "It is after 9, have I kept you from going to sleep?"

Ichigo smiled as he waved the question away. "Don't worry about it. I have plenty of time to get plenty of sleep. I'm … I'm glad you came over."

"As am I," Byakuya returned, planting another kiss on Ichigo's lips. With that minute twitch of his lips, he found his clothing and looked at it, frowning.

Ichigo quickly intervened. "Sensei, please go shower. Here, let me show you the way." He took Byakuya's clothes out of his hands and steered him into the bathroom and showed him how to work the fixtures, explaining that he needed to be careful with the hot water selector because one millimeter = roughly 8000 degrees. "I'll take care of your clothes," he added, as that gorgeous man stepped into the shower (one that he'd recently shared with Starrk and Gin. Jesus!)

…

When Byakuya came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, Ichigo was just finishing up ironing his pants. He looked up at a wet-haired vision and swallowed hard, then smiled. "Here … all ready," he said. He had just slid back into his jeans … no biggie, he'd be getting ready for bed as soon as Kuchiki-sensei left.

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun," he said. "This is most welcome … and helpful. I have that meeting with Grantz-san's father, mother, and brother in 45 minutes." He slid into the newly-pressed shirt, buttoning it up to the collar. His suit coat was in the car, along with his tie. Pulling on the pants and zipping them up, he looked up to find Ichigo watching intently. The younger man blushed and began putting away the iron and ironing board.

"I hope the meeting goes well … I guess I'll find out how Szayel-san is doing when I get in tonight," Ichigo replied when he turned back from closing the pantry door.

"Yes," Byakuya said. He walked to the door, Ichigo behind him, and slid into his shoes. "I am very pleased with things between you and I, Kurosaki-kun," he said, straightening up. "That was …."

"Amazing."

"Yes." He looked down at the shorter man, admiring his naked chest and the jeans that hung low on his hips. "I do not think I could have asked for a better end to my sexual drought." His mouth quirked upward on one side.

Ichigo recognized it for the smile it was. "I'm happy to have been there when the dam burst," he said, grinning.

Byakuya opened the door and turned back for a second to reach out and grasp Ichigo's shoulder. "Again. Soon. Yes?"

"Definitely." Ichigo leaned forward, but the doctor merely squeezed his shoulder companionably and then turned around, heading for the elevators. Ichigo watched him go, slightly disappointed that he didn't apparently rate a goodbye kiss … but then he shook himself and gave himself a mental lecture. _Remember who he is. Remember how understated he is, his personality. The glimpses you got into a passionate Kuchiki-sensei today should be enough_. When Byakuya didn't look back, he squelched his disappointment again – _stop being such a _girl_!_ – and closed the door.

XXX

… "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Grantz," Kuchiki-sensei said, bowing. They currently stood outside room 313. Byakuya had explained what he was wanting to do for their son, and had told them that Jaegerjacques-san had approved it. They nodded their heads and assured him that they, too, would like to proceed with extubation.

"Doctor … what do you think of my son's prognosis? Has anything changed significantly over the past several days?" Mr. Grantz was a shortish, slightly plump man who had a head of auburn hair that was cut stylishly and had every appearance of being 100% natural. His wife, taller than he and with long, blue-black hair that cascaded down her back in a straight shiny sheet, nodded as he spoke, her brow knotted with worry.

"Come. Let us discuss it inside." Byakuya opened the door and gestured for Grantz-san's family members to proceed him as he entered room 313. Shado Yasutora, the day shift nurse, rose to his feet from the nurse's desk and approached the foursome, bowing deeply. "Mr. and Mrs. Grantz, pleasure to see you again. Jaegerjacques-san, Kuchiki-sensei, welcome back."

Greetings were exchanged, then Chad updated the doctor on Szayel's condition. "There has been no discernible change in Grantz-san's demeanor or physical condition, Sensei," he said. "I can report that he seems to be equalizing as far as his water retention is concerned … the output is dropping and I cut back on the Lasix per your sliding scale order, Sensei. But Fumihara-sensei was in about an hour ago and left his progress note. To summarize, he feels that the pituitary and thyroid hormone levels are responding to treatment, and the labs he had drawn back that up. As you can see, Sensei?" He handed the paper chart to the doctor and watched as he looked over the lab reports. Dr. Fumihara was the endocrinologist in charge of Szayel's case.

Byakuya looked up from the chart. "I concur. It does indeed appear that Fumihara-sensei's surgery and follow-up treatments are having the desired effect. The labs also show that we have been successful in clearing the drugs out of your son's system. I am more optimistic now, based on these findings, about your son's chances for awakening and recovery."

Mrs. Grantz began to cry. Mr. Grantz and Grimmjow patted her on the shoulders, and her husband murmured comforting words. Slowly, she regained control of herself and wiped her eyes on a tissue (handed to her by Chad, nearby and on the alert for just such an occasion). "Thank you, Kuchiki-sensei," she said shakily. "I am very glad to hear that."

Grimmjow Jaegerjacques just stood nearby, a frown on his face. He thought he was holding in his aggression very well, thank you very much … but the observant Chad noted his demeanor, no problem. He watched the blue-haired man, ready to step in if that suppressed anger made him snap and try something foolish. Then again – it could just be stress. He'd keep an eye on the man just in case.

"You are most welcome, Grantz-san," Byakuya said to Mrs. Grantz. "Now then … let me explain the weaning process and let you know what we have done so far, with Jaegerjacques-san's consent." They stood next to Zay's bed as the doctor told them about extubating their son/brother. Since he hadn't been tubed very long, it was thought that he shouldn't need it, and so could do very well with just an oxygen mask instead of being intubated. They had already been slowly decreasing the amount of oxygen he was receiving via the respirator. One negative aspect was that Szayel was not fighting the tube in any way … but that probably just showed the depth of his coma. Only one way to find out.

"… and at that point, with the ventilator disconnected, if he shows no signs of hypoxia, we will pull the tube entirely and put him on oxygen via mask, all the while keeping a watchful eye on his oxygen saturation levels. If he continues to do well as the O2 levels are reduced, we will consider delivering oxygen via nasal cannula – the nasal prongs. Best-case scenario – he will not need oxygen at all, he will have a saturation level of 98-100% on room air … at which point we will take him off the oxygen entirely." Mr. and Mrs. Grantz were hanging on his every word, tears still standing in the woman's eyes. Jaegerjacques-san was staring down at his brother, face expressionless except for the now-familiar frown.

"Do you wish to proceed?" Byakuya asked calmly.

All three nodded as Mr. Grantz said firmly, "yes … please, Kuchiki-sensei. We trust your judgment completely."

Grimmjow fought not to snort out loud. As it was, his frown deepened as he turned his brilliant blue gaze on the serene aspect of the doctor. Who merely looked back at him, then looked down at the patient.

"Yasutora-san, please disconnect the respirator." Chad stepped forward, unhooked the respirator's corrugated tubing from the end of the tube that jutted out from Szayel's lips. The machine began to alarm, and Chad disabled the alarms at a gesture from the doctor. Byakuya and Chad watched the O2 saturation level on the monitor. It began to steadily creep downward from 100% as Szayel's lungs began to work on their own, which they did with little to no fanfare. It was a good sign, and not unexpected from one who had only been in a coma for a short time. His brain stem was not injured, so his autonomic reflexes should continue to perform as they always had.

Mrs. Grantz was crying again, softly, without sound. The O2 sat fell to 88% … steadied … then slowly began creeping back upward. 90%. 92%. 95%. Back down to 93%, then it rose up to 96% and steadied. There was a gasp as Mr. Grantz released his held breath. "This … this is good, yes?" he asked, hope filling his voice. Everyone looked at the doctor.

"Indeed. Yasutora-san, would you please inform RT that we require their presence?" Byakuya's voice was still calm and steady.

Chad had a little smile on his face. "Yes, Sensei," he answered, then whipped a cell phone out of his pocket as he walked a few steps away from the little group at the patient's bedside to place the call to Respiratory Therapy. They could hear him murmur into the phone, "… yes. Room 313 for an extubation … STAT, please … thank you." He disconnected and returned to the bedside, automatically checking the monitor. Holding steady at 94%.

Within moments, a smiling young lady walked through the door. "Good morning, everyone," she said, bowing to the patient's family. "Let's see, what do we have here? Grantz-san feeling a bit better today?"

"Indeed, Hinamori-san," Byakuya replied. "If you would, we would like to extubate the patient. If you would like to scan the readouts for the past twelve hours?"

Momo bowed to the doctor and said, "Oh, that is not necessary, Sensei. I reviewed the labs and the readings about an hour ago." She looked at the respirator's readings, noted it was already disconnected, then scanned Szayel's monitors. "Oh, yes, this is very good. Shall I proceed?"

"Please do," Byakuya murmured.

Momo's outward demeanor changed immediately as she moved into place and began to do her job. She checked Szayel's nail beds and lifted an eyelid to look at his sclera. She removed the stethoscope from around her neck and put the earpieces in, then listened to Szayel's lungs, both lobes, upper, middle, and lower areas. "No crackles or wheezes," she reported. "Suction, please, Shado," she said.

Chad slid the long slender tube into Szayel's endotracheal tube and suctioned him, getting a moderate amount of mucus in return. "Is he a smoker?" Momo asked the family. Mr. and Mrs. Grantz looked at Grimmjow, who nodded curtly.

"Pack a day," he said shortly.

"Normal to get secretions, then," Momo said calmly. Then, with a nod to Byakuya, she took a hypodermic syringe from her pocket, unwrapped it, and attached it to the tiny tubing that led in to the cuff, now currently inflated down inside Szayel's neck. It held the tube in place and sealed it inside the trachea, a soft balloon that caused little-to-no trauma to the vocal cords and other soft tissues. Pulling the plunger back, Momo deflated the cuff and took the suction that Chad handed to her. She suctioned out the patient's mouth and throat, then pulled the tube, standing by with the suction.

Szayel began coughing. Momo held his head steady and suctioned his mouth again, getting the secretions as he coughed them up. "Coughing is an entirely normal occurrence after extubation," she said serenely. "It's a natural reaction to the stimulus of the tube being removed, and is a good sign. If Grantz-san's body continues to automatically clear his natural secretions, that is all for the good." She suctioned him again, then again as he coughed up more mucus. Finally he stilled.

Byakuya had watched the O2 saturation levels through all these ministrations. It dipped down to 86% during the coughing and suctioning, then slowly rose back up to 90%, where it seemed to level off. "Let's start him out on a non-rebreather mask, Hinamori-san … do you agree?"

This was one of the things that made Byakuya Kuchiki one of the most beloved doctors at Karakura Chronic/Acute Care, despite his reticent personality … he had no reservations about giving his colleagues the respect they deserved. Momo almost blushed as she smiled and agreed with his assessment of the patient's condition. (Whenever Momo ran into Dr. Aizen, though, she blushed for real. She held a long-standing crush for the tall doctor. There really is, apparently, no accounting for taste.) Momo opened the drawer on the bedside cabinet and pulled out a wrapped non-rebreather mask, which she unwrapped and applied to Szayel's face, tightening the straps until it fit him perfectly. "I'd say … start him out on 5 liters. Do you agree, Dr. Kuchiki?"

He nodded serenely. Chad adjusted the O2 feed, then readjusted it down … and down … and down per Byakuya's orders as it became apparent that, at the moment, Szayel only needed about 3 liters of oxygen to sustain a 99% O2 saturation. "Very good." Byakuya turned to face the family. "Success," he said, and gave them a rare actual smile, the corners of his mouth turning up visibly.

Mrs. Grantz began crying for real now, as her husband held her and patted her back. He was beaming, tears standing in his own eyes, too.

"Yasutora-san, continue monitoring his saturation levels closely, adjust according to the sliding scale," Byakuya continued, giving Chad orders for the newly-extubated patient.

Grimmjow watched the doctor interact again with his parents – yes, still frowning. Then he looked at Szayel, who looked SO much better without that fucking tube coming out of his mouth.

"P-p-p-p-p-p-p," came from around the screen. Byakuya's head cocked, listening, then he looked at Chad, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes, that is Hirako-san," the nurse said, quietly. "This is the fourth time since I came on shift." Another rare smile from the tall, bronze-skinned nurse.

"I see." He bowed to Szayel's family, told them he was at their service day or night for questions or concerns about Grantz-san, and walked around the tall folding screen to check out the other patient in the room.

…

Grimmjow was steamed. How could he fucking compare to Mr. Miracle-Worker Doctor, the great healer? Dammit, it just made matters worse that he was a totally competent, brilliant, and respected physician. The fucking prick. On top of that, Grimmjow had to admit: he was a good-looking man. Looked like he needed someone to forcibly remove the stick from his ass, definitely, but you couldn't deny that he was a stunner physically. All the more reason to fucking hate him. Because any way you looked at it, he had an uphill battle ahead of him for Ichigo's affections.

1 – He worked with Doctor Fabulous and so would be around him every day. Did that also include locker room time? Fuckin' hell, he bet it did. Shit!

2 – They worked in the same profession, in the healthcare field. That gave them all kinds of things in common that Grimmjow just wouldn't fucking have.

3 – Ichigo's position as nurse put him _under_ Dr. Prick in the hierarchy of the hospital. The doctor was his superior … great, just fucking great. For a person with submissive leanings, that would definitely add something sexy to the mix.

4 – If Ichigo was anything like the rest of the people he saw come into contact with Dr. Arse-Wipe, he probably already had a fucking worshipful crush on the prick. Great. Probably been going on for years. How the fuck was he supposed to fight _that_?

Any way you added it up, he was going to be working at a severe disadvantage from the get-go. He needed some quiet time to think things through and decide what his game plan was going to be. Hmm. Not now. Later, after his folks went back home (he'd let them take Zay's car and he'd take the train back when he was ready to leave), he'd go up to the roof, smoke, and think it through. For right now, he just patted his brother's hand and smiled up at his folks. Szayel was no longer intubated. It was fuckin' awesome.

XXX

Ichigo woke up, fighting his sheets, covered in sweat and gasping for breath. The nightmare hadn't been a new one, but it still shattered his heart whenever he had one of them. Most especially this one. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. A glance at the alarm clock showed that it was only 5 p.m. He needed to sleep longer. But the nightmare lingered. It was Keigo this time. He winced. Nightmare, indeed.

_Keigo Asano was only 19 when he was brought to 3C, having already been in a coma for three years. He was a transfer in from another facility, after his mother was horrified at the fact that she'd turned him one day and discovered that his backside was sporting an open wound – typically referred to as a "bedsore" in layman's terms, a decubitus ulcer in medical parlance. She'd had him moved from the nursing home to 3C two days later. _

_Once in Ichigo's care, Keigo was healed. His skin lost that papery, thin feel, his hair reacquired its youthful gloss, and he began to put weight back on – good weight, muscle weight. Ichigo cared for Keigo for 7 months, total … before "the incident". He loved him. He had still been feeling the recent loss of Kira, and so tried to hold back, but the small (5'5") boy wormed his way into Ichigo's heart anyway. He loved him._

_Keigo had succumbed to coma due to an automobile accident. His girlfriend, Midori Tono, had been driving the vehicle, and she had been texting behind the wheel when she lost control, arrowed across the freeway and across the median into oncoming traffic. T-boned by a ¾ ton maintenance vehicle, Keigo hadn't had a chance. His injuries were extensive, and he never woke up again._

_Midori Tono was grief-stricken … but what wasn't readily apparent was the fact that guilt was eating her up inside. The police had checked her phone and discovered that she had, indeed, been texting while behind the wheel – illegal. She was tried and found guilty of vehicular manslaughter, but since she was a minor she was sentenced to only two years in the women's prison at Tochigi. Ichigo was only marginally aware of all this – his focus was on Keigo and his scarily deteriorated state. A nursing home is no place for a person in a coma. He threw himself into caring for the young man, gradually coming to love him with all his heart, caring for him meticulously._

_It was late one midnight shift when the door to 313 opened to admit a young woman. She was dressed in black and had a hood pulled low over her eyes. Ichigo went up to her and inquired as to her presence … why was she here?_

"_I am Midori Tono," she said, and he could only see her chin. "I am here to see Keigo Asano."_

_Ichigo only barely remembered hearing the name, but he was glad to see a visitor for Keigo. He drew the woman to Keigo's bedside and smiled down at the "sleeping" boy-man. "He sleeps, but we are taking good care of him for when he wakes up," he'd said … and to this day, he wished he'd looked at the young woman's face when he'd said that. But he didn't. He was just smiling down at Keigo. "Enjoy your visit, Tono-san," he'd said … and returned to the nurse's desk._

_He couldn't hear what she was saying. All he could make out were murmurs and the sounds of crying. Nothing new on 3C. For months afterward he tortured himself - he should have gone 'round the screen and checked on them. But he didn't. 3C believed in privacy for patients and their family and/or loved ones. It was only when it was time for Keigo's tube feeding that he got up and walked around the screen. His eyes widened as panic exploded inside his chest. _Calm!_ He shouted inside. _Don't startle her!

_He walked very slowly toward the bed. The knife she held was large and shiny, sharp, glinting in the dim lighting. She was crying silently, holding the knife over Keigo's chest. When Ichigo appeared, she turned her eyes to him. Her face was pale white except in places where the burn scars had left it a livid red. "Do not come any closer, Nurse-san," she said in a hoarse voice._

"_Please … please don't … don't hurt him, Tono-san. Please," Ichigo remained rooted in place as the knife tip remained poised over Keigo's heart. His eyes darted here and there, looking for anything anything! That could help. _

"_Do not move," she said. Tears began to track down from her already-tear-swollen eyes. "You know what happened? You know what I did?" she asked, the hands clenched around the knife hilt scarily steady._

"_Yes." Oh god oh god oh god._

"_I was texting my friend … I was going to ditch Keigo and go out with her instead. None of them know that. Only me … and now you, Nurse-san. I was going to break up with him … and instead, I made a mistake and we had that wreck … and Keigo ended up like this." She motioned carelessly toward him with the knife. It grazed the sheets, catching in them, and Ichigo took a startled step forward. "I SAID DON'T MOVE!" she shouted._

Please, someone hear that!_ Ichigo thought, scared to his bones. Not for himself … for his beloved. "Please … I can help. Put down the knife, and we'll get a cup of coffee and talk about it. Please, let me help you."_

"_No," she whispered. "There's only one thing that can help me. My grief. My guilt. My … hatred. They eat me up inside. In prison, out of prison … my prison is inside me." She sobbed. "It wasn't my fault! I told him I didn't want him to go with me! I had told him it was over!" She was shouting louder now. "But he insisted! We can work it out, he said! I love you, he said!" Her face twisted._

_She's … she's insane, Ichigo thought. I'm going to have to jump her, something! I have to get that knife away from—_

_As the words were going through his head, Midori Tono raised the knife and plunged it into Keigo's body, grunting as she pushed it deeper between his ribs on the left side of his chest, until the hilt hit bone. Ichigo screamed and leapt at her, using his right fist he hit her in the face as hard as he could, knocking her across the room, she slammed into the nurse's desk and went still. _

_Ichigo stared aghast at the knife protruding from Keigo's chest. Blood welled up around it, then the alarms started blaring. Ichigo was unaware that he was still screaming, an anguished "no no no!" that wouldn't stop. Ishida slammed the door open, saw the girl on the floor and yelled, "Ichigo? Ichigo!" He knelt to check the young woman's condition. Alive, just out._

_Ichigo was standing at Keigo's bedside, knowing that it was futile, there was no way you were going to save someone who had been stabbed in the heart. Heart's blood had pooled around the knife and soaked Keigo's gown, but that … that meant nothing. Keigo's heart no longer beat. The alarms sounded. So Ichigo Kurosaki was doing his job: he was ushering his beloved into the next world._

"_I love you, Keigo," he said, kissing him and stroking his face. "Go with love and joy into the arms of your ancestors. I am so sorry I did not protect you. I love you." Tears poured in two steady streams down his cheeks. Sobs ripped out of his chest. It hurt. It hurt so bad. "Keigo."_

_Ishida didn't hear the words … but he didn't need to. He could see with his own eyes, too, when he ran around the screen … and being a nurse, he also knew. The monitor showed a steady flat line, even as the respirator continued to make Keigo's chest rise and fall while the alarms wailed. When someone – especially someone in an already-debilitated state – is stabbed in the heart, there is nothing you can do._

...

Ichigo had required counseling after that incident. His guilt had begun to eat _him_ up as well, for not protecting Keigo from his insane ex-girlfriend. A patient had been murdered while under his care, but the inquiry had found him completely blameless. He'd complied with the hospital's visitor and privacy policies … and he'd tried to stop the assault as soon as it was safe to do so … even though it had been too late. He didn't _feel_ blameless. His confused feelings had left him wondering if he should quit nursing … but it had been Renji Abari who had helped him the most. Through the rages, the drunken tears, the soul-searching … Renji was steadfast in his friendship and his complete and utter faith in Ichigo's destiny as a nurse on 3C. Without Renji, Ichigo had no idea where he'd've ended up.

Midori Tono had returned to prison … where she had killed herself by biting off her tongue.

…

Ichigo shook his head and finished the glass of water. He really needed to get back to sleep. 'Morning' would come early, his alarm was due to go off in about four hours. He padded back to bed, got in, and covered himself with the sheet. Turning to lay on his left side, he said goodnight to all his beloveds … and sent yet another silent apology to Keigo Asano, along with his undying love.

XXX

**End Chapter 8**

**Yeah … I know not a lot "happened" in this one, but I think - sometimes the feelings need to be advanced more than the plot does. **

**Thank you for reading! More updating soon ….**

**Ahvienda**


	9. Chapter 9 What's a Guy to Do?

**Chapter 9 – What's a Guy To Do?**

**Warnings: Language, Male-on-male sex**

**Disclaimer: I have to say it again? *sigh* Fine. I don't own anything Bleach. Rats!**

When Ichigo woke up, his alarm clock was displaying 8:28 p.m. And that was fine. He'd gotten back to sleep easily after waking up from the nightmare, and had slept well. Not hard to imagine why – he'd been getting an uncanny amount of sex lately, and the release of sex-related endorphins was enormously good for the body. He'd slept like the proverbial baby.

Padding out to the kitchen, he saw that the coffee had been brewed and waiting for him for over an hour. That was okay, it would still taste good. He poured a cup by the dim light from the nightlight on the kitchen counter, doctored it up the way he liked it, and retired to the couch to sit back and enjoy it. The first sip – heaven. Ichigo sighed and leaned back, holding the warm mug in both hands. Coffee was such a simple pleasure. Warmth. Sweetness. A hint of vanilla from the creamer he liked. It was delicious.

As he sat and drank the first cup, his eyes fell on the scrapbook that was on the shelf under the coffee table. Last night's dream tried to intrude upon his thoughts, but he banished it by saying good morning to all his beloveds. Wherever they were now, he hoped they could see that he honored their memories and held them firmly in his heart. Every single one of them.

He had time before he needed to think about getting ready for work, so he got up and raided the refrigerator for breakfast. A toasted bagel with cream cheese, a quart of strawberry (ha-ha) yogurt with a handful of granola tossed in it, and a banana. Placing all these items on a tray, he took it back into the living room area and chowed down, chasing the food with swallows of coffee.

When he was done he took the tray into the kitchen and put the dishes into the dishwasher, refilled his coffee cup, and withdrew once again to the sofa. He looked at it as he sank into the cushions, remembering yesterday's events. Byakuya Kuchiki had been with him on this very couch, naked and panting, fucking him with wild abandon. It had been good … _really_ good. Not that long ago Ichigo had been wondering just how long it'd been since he'd had _real_ sex … now that question was totally moot.

What _was_ strange was the amount of sex he'd been getting recently. It seemed as though Shuuhei's recent visit had opened up some kind of floodgate. Starrk, Gin-san, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, and now Kuchiki-sensei. Hell, even the unwanted blowjob from Aizen-sensei! Thinking about sex in general lead to thinking about sex in particular: the first time with Byakuya … the hard wild sex, hot and unhinged, the view above him as Sensei fucked him. Then the second time, the long teasing slow fucking, the prostate massage, Sensei's beautiful body flexing, muscles bunching, beautiful, so beautiful. A wave of heat flashed through Ichigo's body.

His hand was tight on the coffee cup as he looked down at his lap, to see his pajama pants tightly outlining a twitching erection. Goddammit.

So if he beat off now, would that cause him any difficulty? He couldn't answer yes to that question, so he got up off the couch (coffee cup in hand), and headed for the shower.

The only trouble was, the fantasy that sent him shooting off like a party popper involved a head of wild blue hair and a grin that could charm the pants off a priest.

XXX

When Ichigo got to work he was a half-hour early, so he went down to the cafeteria and got a cup of flavored coffee to take up to the third floor with him. Entering the locker room, he saw that three of the night shift orderlies were there, trading good-natured insults and playing keep-away with a pair of rolled-up socks.

"Hey, Kurosaki … still dyeing your hair that fucked-up color, I see."

"And you're still hitting the tanning bed. Better slow down, you'll end up looking like an old suitcase before you know it." Ichigo grinned as he opened his locker. He was slightly disappointed to not see Byakuya there … or to have a note in his locker perhaps? … or to have a text message or an email. But then he chided himself for acting like a girl again and began to strip.

After getting changed, Ichigo meandered down the hallway. It was quiet tonight, so the room doors were all open. He poked his head into Ishida's room to see that the patient Nnoitra Gilga had awakened, obviously, since he was sitting up and being fed a meal by the swing shift nurse for that room, Yumichika Ayasegawa. Nnoitra looked irritable at having to be fed, but Yumichika looked quietly animated as he held up the spoonful of applesauce to his patient's lips. Ichigo smiled at the picture and went on, wondering when Gilga-san had awakened and who had been present for the event. He'd talk to Ishida later and find out how it had all gone down.

Walking further down the hall, he approached the door to his room and, upon reaching the opening, came to a screeching halt. Renji stood next to Szayel-san's bed, right next to Grimmjow Jaegerjaques … and his large tanned hand was on Grimmjow's back, rubbing it in a comforting way. A hot sensation bloomed in Ichigo's chest and caused a flush that rose from his neck to his face. What the fuck was Renji doing? Grimmjow's head was down, his fingers rubbing his eyes, shoulder muscles bunched – his tenseness was evident in every line of his body. Ichigo became aware that Renji was speaking, his voice deep and soothing, but quietly so that Ichigo could only hear parts of what he was saying.

"… worry, it can take time … healing … calm yourself … please try to …."

Grimmjow nodded, his blue hair shimmering in the light. His hands strained as they clutched at the railing along the side of Szayel-san's bed. Renji began sliding his hand along the other man's spine, up and down, soothingly. Ichigo could see Grimmjow begin to relax as his back flexed and straightened. He lifted his head and looked into Renji's eyes, who smiled as he returned the gaze, that handsome face full of caring and … something else? The hot sensation in Ichigo's chest returned with a vengeance as he stood there, frozen near the edge of the doorway.

He knew Renji like no-one else outside his own family. He knew that look. Renji was interested in Jaegerjaques-san, obviously. He leaned forward until his forehead bumped gently against Grimmjow's, saying, "… so don't worry yourself so much. You'll end up making yourself sick, Jaegerjaques-san." Grimmjow nodded, taking a deep breath, then relaxing visibly as he exhaled. Renji didn't remove his hand from the other man's back, instead it lingered at the base of Grimmjow's spine, expertly massaging.

"Mmph," Grimmjow grunted. He shifted his body weight a bit, leaning his hips against the bed rail.

"Jaegerjaques-san?" Renji asked softly.

"Feels good," the bluenet muttered.

Renji chuckled quietly. "Good." And continued.

Ichigo turned on his heel and forced himself to walk away, back to the nurse's lounge, to await report. It was none of his business what either of the men did – either together or alone! He had no business interrupting, or caring, or acting like he was jealous, or anything of the kind! _Just stop it_, he fumed at himself. _Maybe Renji was just doing his job!_ But even if he wasn't, even if he was making a play – or an offer? – it was none of Ichigo's business. None!

He entered the lounge and picked up his laptop from the charging station, then sat down with it and his cup of coffee at one of the tables. He booted up, then went through the checks on his patients – their most recent labs, any progress notes the doctors had left, the nursing notes. He was still reading about Shinji when Renji entered the lounge, all ready to give him report.

"Heyyy," the redhead said gaily, "my favorite nurse. What's up, Ichigo?" He slid into one of the chairs at Ichigo's right and leaned back, looking a bit sleepy but pleased. He pulled the skullcap off and scratched his scalp, the vibrant red hair looking like flame under the fluorescent lighting.

Ichigo fought his natural urge – interfering fucker! – and smiled, hoping none of his jealousy showed on his face. "Nada mucho, Renji. How's the night been?"

Renji laughed. "Quiet. And profitable!" He opened his own laptop and tickled the touchpad as he spoke.

"Profitable? What do you mean by that?" Ichigo carefully controlled his tone, although inside he was practically growling. _What's wrong with me?_

"Oh, nothin'. Nothin'," Renji said airily. "Just bein' myself and knockin' 'em down," he said, grinning salaciously, a leer really. He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a confidential tone. "I gotta tell ya, Ichigo … that Jaegerjaques is one good. Lookin'. Man."

"Yeah. I noticed." Ichigo kept his eyes on his laptop.

"Oh hey …" Renji sat up straight, his hands out in a warding-off gesture. "Am I steppin' on toes here? Dude, if you've got dibs, I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, man. Not me." Ichigo smiled at his best friend. "Hit it all you want." _Oh, really?_ His inner voice commented. _Gonna tell Renji how you've already got some interesting history with Mr. Sexy Blue Hair?_

No need. It was just one of those things, a quickie or two that meant nothing, not for either of them. Besides, Ichigo was with Sensei now, so he had no right to say anything about what anyone else was doing.

"Cool," Renji said, his voice satisfied. "'Cause I'll neko my ass off for the right guy." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down, fully aware of the pun he'd just made, and Ichigo couldn't help but laugh. How could he stay mad at Renji? Answer: he couldn't. And he had no right to interfere. So there. Issue closed.

…

After report, Ichigo went back into his room, all business. He checked on both his patients without even turning to see if Grimmjow was still in the room. Shinji was lying on his back, eyes closed. His readings were all low normal on the monitor – looking good. Ichigo leaned in and whispered his hello, greeting his beloved, brushing back the blond hair and petting Shin's cheeks. He was still connected to the ventilator, but _he_ was doing the breathing, not the machine. It was merely supplying oxygen and standing by just in case Shinji's lungs couldn't handle the work – in that event, it would "assist" and give him a breath or two, keeping his body oxygenated. The O2 was set at 2 liters – very good. Hopefully soon he wouldn't need the oxygen boost at all, and they could even wean him off the machine entirely. Ichigo worried about that for a few seconds, wondering if Shinji could handle being off of it, after having been on it for so long.

But he longed to see the young blond without the trach sticking out of his neck. Hopefully soon. He sent a prayer up to whomever might be listening, and smiled down at Shin. "I'll give you all the soccer scores soon," he promised the slender blond. "No worries. I'll be right here with you."

After checking all Shinji's tubes and wires, he walked over to Szayel-san, noting from the corner of his eyes that Grimmjow was sitting slouched on the couch, a slate on his lap, tapping on it. Ichigo approached Szayel and leaned over him, visually appraising his patient, noting his skin color, the dryness of his lips, the texture of his hair. "Good evening, Szayel-san," he said, feeling emotion well up inside as he looked into the pink-haired man's open eyes. "It's me, Ichigo … I'm back." He laid his hand along the reclining man's face, held it there while he gazed into golden amber-colored eyes. "I would like to see your eyes in sunlight, Szayel-san," he murmured, still smiling. A long slow blink was all the response he got, but that didn't matter to Ichigo.

He kept up a soothing running commentary as he did all the little things that would insure Szayel's comfort. Drops in the eyes, balm for his lips, a minty toothbrush to clean his teeth and mouth, moisturizing lotion for his skin, and a leave-in conditioner for his hair. "Looking good," he said afterwards, using his fingers to brush pink bangs off to the right side of Szayel's forehead. He gazed into the man's eyes for a while then … and could feel himself falling. Like always. "We'll do your massage later," he promised.

Behind him, Grimmjow cleared his throat. Ichigo looked over his shoulder, but Grimmjow was still focused on the slate. He patted Szayel's blanket into place and retired to the nurse's desk to make his notes. Silence reigned.

Until he heard the plop of the slate hitting the couch, and muffled footsteps approaching the desk. "So," the deep voice said. Ichigo looked up and to his left. Grimmjow stood there, hipshot, scratching the right side of his chest. "How was your date?" He was frowning.

Ichigo could no longer say that it wasn't a date. He swallowed and finished the note he was writing, then looked up. "How are you this evening, Jaegerjaques-san?"

Grimmjow barked ironic laughter. "Oh, gonna ignore the question, huh? Fine, whatever. I'm fine. You?"

"Me, too … thanks for asking," Ichigo said, carefully professional.

Frowning, Grimmjow leaned so that his hip was against the desk's side edge. "Good news for Dr. Prick is bad news for me, huh? Took him home, didja? How was it?" His voice was angry, his frown intense.

"That's … not really any of your business, Jaegerjaques-san," Ichigo said firmly.

"I beg to differ, _Ichigo_," Grimmjow said sardonically. "What do you call what we did in the park? I think that—"

"That was nothing," Ichigo said, fighting a blush. "Just one of those things … AND not something I want to discuss while I'm on duty!" he said firmly.

Grimmjow fumed. He gritted his teeth and stared down at the oranget. Fuck. He was half-right … they had made each other no promises, but to be fair: they'd been cut off by that page before any talking could be done. And then he'd been snatched away by the "good doctor". Dammit! Okay, fine. It wasn't like he was in _LOOOOVE_ or anything like that. So fuck it. He erased the frown from his face and adopted a careless tone. "No problem. Have it your way. But I gotta go. Got an offer to go out tonight, didn't know if I could make it, but now, yeah, why not. So I'll havta take my leave now. Call my cell if anythin' happens with Zay."

"Of course," Ichigo replied. A date. It had to be with Renji. Jealousy reared up hot and wild in his chest again. _Stop it. Stop it right now. Remember Kuchiki-sensei. Stay focused. You're at work. Stay focused._

Grimmjow picked up a backpack and took it into the bathroom with him. Ichigo kept working on his nursing notes and other charting. When the bluenet emerged from the bathroom some ten minutes later, Ichigo tried not to look, but he couldn't help it. His mouth flooded with saliva as he took in the vision that was Grimmjow Jaegerjaques in date mode: a silver-grey button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up – unbuttoned to show the tight white tank top underneath, black jeans that hugged him tightly in all the right places, black-and-white high-tops, and that hair. Blue spikes that had that fuckalicious tousle, several strands that hung down over his forehead – Ichigo wanted to run his fingers through it all and then yank his head down for a kiss he'd never forget.

But he didn't. Grimmjow left without another word, merely going over to his brother and squeezing his hand for a few moments. Then he breezed out the door, leaving behind a whiff of Burberry's in his wake.

XXX

Seireitei was jumping … especially for a weekday night! But there'd been a special presentation of a very popular local band earlier in the evening, and the band's members were still there, mingling with the crowd and keeping everyone from heading on home_. Achtung!_ was the band's name - they were young, they were brash, and they were sexy – three things that the Seireitei was becoming very famous for.

Renji Abarai was _stoked_. He'd arrived with Tatsuki and Orihime just in time to catch the band's last half-hour, and they hadn't been disappointed. Now the crowd was amped up, the sound system boomed as the band's bassist had taken over the DJ job and was playing a mix of his favorite dance numbers. The three friends were sitting at a table, talking over the music and drinking – but Renji was keeping an eye on the doors. It was time … Jaegerjaques-san should be arriving any minute now.

"So where's your date, Renji," Tots shouted, eyes gleaming. "Is he late?"

"Not yet," Renji shouted back, grinning. Orihime smiled as Tatsuki slung an arm around her shoulders. It hadn't come as any surprise, the two women hooking up – Tatsuki had had a burning love for Orihime since their middle school days, it had just taken Orihime finally _getting it_ for their relationship to take off. Renji was happy for them. They made a good couple: Orihime's shy ladylike ways were set off perfectly by Tatsuki's exuberant electric persona. Tots leaned in and kissed Orihime's cheek, setting off a cute blush that made her kiss that cheek again.

"Wait …" Renji's eyes were glued to the doors. "There he is." Oh, and yeah, there he _was_. Striding through the doors like he owned the place, head above most of the people in the crowd, that blue hair shining like a beacon in the flashing lights. "Better go meet him … might not find us in this madhouse, y'know?" Renji said, gulping down the rest of his beer and standing up.

"Looking good, Renj," Tots said, grinning up at him.

"Thanks," he said, smiling.

He was looking good, all right. Grimmjow spotted that mass of red hair from a mile away. Renji was wearing it down, as he usually did when he came to Seireitei, and the waving strands looked alive as he made his way through the crowd. He wore a tight black t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a pair of tight black jeans. When he approached Grimmjow he slid an arm around his waist (this _was_ a date, after all), and squeezed him tightly as he said gleefully, "you made it!"

"That I did," Grimmjow replied, burying his hand in that hair and giving a playful tug. He grinned at Renji – who was just about his height – and let himself be led to the bar. When they got there, he took charge. He wanted to make it clear from the outset who was the dominant force in this date. "What'll ya have?" he asked Renji as he dug his wallet out from his back pocket.

"Same as you," Renji said, deferring nicely. He had no problems with following Grimmjow's lead.

Grimm looked at the bartender. "Two Jameson's on the rocks. And keep 'em comin' to our table." He flung 20,000 yen onto the bar. After their drinks were in hand, Renji led Grimmjow back to the table and introduced him to Orihime and Tatsuki. Both were cheerful and welcoming. They liked seeing Renji so happy, and if this was the man that was making that happen, then they were uber-glad to meet him.

The night wore on. Drinking. Talking. Dancing. Grimmjow didn't want to dance, but he watched Renji move on the dance floor with Orihime and Tatsuki … and the brave man who would approach and ask him for a dance occasionally. Renji kept his eye on the table when he was on the dance floor, liking that Grimmjow was watching him … he'd wink at him when their eyes caught. _God damn_, the redhead thought. _I want him. More than I've wanted anybody in a long time. _He didn't think any further ahead than that, Renji being disinclined to want to be tied down with anyone in particular for very long, not at this stage in his life. It was too much fun being footloose and fancy-free. He grinned at the thought … then the dance ended and he made his tipsy way back to the table. He ran his fingers along Grimmjow's arm-shoulder-neck-shoulder-arm as he walked behind him, then plunked down in the seat next to him.

Suddenly a deep bass beat erupted out of the speakers. Renji placed it immediately. It was his favorite song lately. He gulped down the latest in what seemed like a long line of drinks and turned to face Grimmjow. "I wanna do somethin' to ya," he said, slurring his words only slightly.

Grimmjow grinned his trademark leer, causing sparks to jump along Renji's spine. "Oh yeah? I can think of lots of things I wanna do to you … when there ain't so many people around, red." He watched lazily as Renji stood and grabbed ahold of Grimm's chair, turning it to face away from the table.

"Oh, don't worry. It ain't nothin' this place hasn't seen before," he said with a leer, and leaned in to lick Grimmjow's lips.

XXX

The night wore on at 3C. Ichigo kept himself busy, taking care of his patients, helping the other nurse's with theirs. He was standing between the two beds with the screens partly folded back, so he could watch the passive motion machines work Szayel and Shinji's legs, when he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Checking it quickly, he saw that he had a text with an attached video from Tatsuki. It was titled "OMG!" Chuckling, he read the tagline.

"U should c Renji! Uwaah!"

With a bit of trepidation, he opened the video … and caught his breath. Tots was holding the phone steadily for one who'd been drinking half the night, and the view was perfect. Renji was shirtless, half-standing, half-sitting in Grimmjow Jaegerjaques' lap. He was facing the bluenet, hands on both shoulders … and he was giving him one _hell_ of a sexy lap dance. The muscles in his back bunched and writhed, his tattoos looking like they were alive in the flashing lights, as he slanted his hips forward and slid his groin down Grimmjow's chest and belly, then Renji's hips flexed as he ground his pelvis onto Grimm's lap. The blue-haired male was grinning up into Renji's face, one hand on each thigh, gripping tightly.

Renji's hair streamed down his back as he flung his head back and began to dry-fuck himself on Grimmjow's crotch, moving his hips in back-and-forth and circular motions. Ichigo would bet his last yen that Grimm's long hard cock was bulging against the front of his jeans, that Renji was feeling every inch of it as he slid and ground himself against it. It was one of the sexiest things Ichigo had ever seen. Grimm's hands slid up Renji's legs onto his hips, then they gripped and held him in place while he bucked his hips up into him, effectively taking over the "fuck". Renji's head came up again, his hair falling forward to hang around his face, making an impromptu privacy curtain. From what Ichigo could tell, he was kissing Grimmjow enthusiastically for a long minute as the man underneath him teased him unmercifully with his clothed cock. Suddenly the muscles in Renji's shoulders and back tensed … and then he _shuddered_. Oh my fucking god, did Grimmjow Jaegerjaques just make Renji Abarai COME from a dry-fuck?! Tatsuki moved a bit and Renji's face came into view. Yes. It was obvious, especially to one who knew Renji like Ichigo did. He was in ecstasy, his eyes closed, his mouth open, his hands tight on Grimmjow's shoulders.

The sound wasn't that great, but Ichigo could hear the crowd nearby cheering and yelling encouragement. Grimmjow was no longer grinning … instead he was intently watching Renji as he pulled his head up again and looked down at the bluenet. He fell forward onto Grimmjow, who wrapped his arms around the spent redhead and grinned when he turned his head and looked into the camera lens … and then the video ended.

Ichigo stood there, frozen, staring at the screen. Seconds ticked by. His erection was painful, throbbing in his scrubs. Unable to help himself, he watched the video again, this time paying more attention to Grimmjow instead of Renji. He was enjoying himself, enjoying Renji's show, and then enjoying the power he had over the redhead when he took over the dry fuck. His face when he brought Renji to orgasm … Ichigo's dick twitched in his pants as he looked at it. Fierce grin, gleeful triumph, dark passion. _God damn_.

He saved the video. Then got back to work, willing his erection away. There was nothing he could do about it now. _Go away, go away_. But the video in his mind was not so easily shut off.

XXX

Grimmjow and Renji got to Szayel's house at about 3:30 a.m. Renji was very pleasantly drunk, pliant and sexy as he followed Grimmjow into the living room. Grimm had poured them another drink and lit the fire … and now they were sitting on the sofa, talking about the bar and other inconsequential things.

Renji was practically on fire. The orgasm earlier in the bar had just lit him up … he wanted more and he didn't want Grimmjow to be in any kind of uncertainty about that. So he slid over along the couch until he was very close to the other man. Although he was slightly taller, it didn't feel that way as he snuggled in close – Grimmjow had a large presence, his muscular frame was perfectly shaped and toned to a T.

For his part, as stated previously: there was nothing Grimmjow liked better than a strong man offering himself for Grimm's control. The redhead was handsome, built like a brick shithouse, and yeah – he was offering. So Grimmjow did what any red-blooded unattached man would do: he _took_. Unzipping his jeans, he then stretched out his arms along the back of the couch and said, "Suck me, Red."

"Yess," Renji whispered, and immediately rose up and laid himself full-length on Grimmjow's reclining body. He kissed him momentarily, sucking his tongue, then licked his way down, kissing and petting, nibbling and sucking kiss-marks along the way. What a gorgeous fuckin' man, he kept thinking. Ohhh yeah. Fuckin' gorgeous.

He took hold of Grimmjow's jeans and pulled them all the way off, surprising the other man – if the upward flicker of his blue eyebrows was any indication. But he never shifted his relaxed stance, letting a slow grin spread across his face. Blue pubic hair met Renji's eyes … and a beautifully-shaped cock, long and thick, which Grimm flexed as he looked at it.

When Renji looked up at him, Grimmjow noted that the redhead's pupils were dilated. He licked his lips … then dove in. He buried his face in Grimm's pubic patch, breathing in the heady scent, kissing and "mmm-ing" as he did so. He worked his way to the base of Grimmjow's dick, then began kissing it, open-mouthed kisses, sucking and licking, nibbling at the taut flesh. Grimm slid his fingers into Renji's red locks, stroking and rubbing his scalp. Renji moaned as his hips twitched. Then he took Grimmjow's cock into his mouth and … let the sucking begin.

He was skillful, Grimmjow had to definitely give him that. Given a little more time, he'd've been able to counteract all the alcohol in Grimm's system and he'd pop off like a rocket. But that's not what the redhead wanted, was it. And tonight, Grimmjow was all about giving this big man a nice big dick in his ass. Like right NOW.

He leaned forward and latched onto one of Renji's hips with one big hand, pulling him so that he was at right angles with Grimm's still-reclining body. He growled, "Get those jeans out of my way," and swatted the other man's ass cheek. With Grimm's cock still firmly down his throat, Renji quickly used both hands to unzip and pull down his jeans, revealing his tightly-muscled buttocks. He moaned as Grimm ran his hand down his back and onto his ass, then slipping around the front to stroke up some pre-seminal fluid. Coating his fingers in it, he moved them instantly to Renji's cleft, petting and circling his hole until it began to twitch and wink with anticipation.

Renji loved it. He wanted it so bad, but he didn't want it over so soon. Grimmjow was exactly what he needed at the moment: a strong man who wouldn't take no for an answer, who wanted Renji and was going to get him no matter what. He groaned with pleasure when Grimmjow inserted two fingers inside him and began stretching his opening, thrusting those fingers in and out, scissoring them, then reaching inside to pet his aching prostate gland. Soon he was pushing backwards to help, moving with those talented fingers, moaning as he licked up pre-cum enthusiastically.

Then the fingers were gone. A hand dove into his hair and yanked his head up.

Grimmjow looked at Renji's lewd face. His lips were slightly swollen, red and moist. His eyes were hooded, dark with desire. He was panting. "What ya did earlier … do it again, fer real." Grimm's voice was rough and deep, commanding.

Renji slid against him as he sat astride him, once Grimmjow slid up into a more sitting position. He straddled Grimm's hips, hands on his shoulders, then slid his dripping cock along the man's chest and belly. Grimm's hands were tight on his thighs, just like they'd been earlier. Excitement skittered along Renji's spine … this was so _hot_. He pressed his balls against Grimmjow's dick and began sliding along its length, gasping with pleasure. "Ah … ah god," he moaned, speeding up slightly, wanting so BAD to grab his cock and stroke it. He wanted … h-he wanted ….

"Don't worry, Red," Grimmjow said, his voice low, his grin almost evil in its intensity. "I'm gonna fuck you _good_." His hands slid around to grasp Renji's buttocks, and together Renji was lifted off Grimmjow's hips. "Line it up," he growled, as his dick flexed.

"Yes!" Renji wanted that cock so bad! He reached down with a shaking hand and pulled that throbbing member up, lining it up with his twitching asshole, pressing down against it.

"Not so fast," Grimmjow said, teasingly, using one hand to pull Renji forward for a searing kiss. As he did so, he slowly lowered Renji down onto himself, feeling him relax and open up for the intrusion, feeling the heat as his head popped past Renji's sphincter. He held him there, steady, once again ravaging his mouth.

"Ah!" Renji was shaking with desire. When had the last time been, that he'd wanted to be fucked like this? Long time. He _needed_ it. "Ah! P-Please! Nn!" he wanted to slam his hips down, but he held back, anticipation building, longing peaking, his pre-cum flowing from his throbbing dick.

With one swift motion, Grimmjow pulled Renji down onto his penis, driving it all the way in til their skins smacked together. Renji shouted as his whole body tensed, then he forced his sphincter to relax and helplessly he began to move, fucking himself on Grimm's long hard cock, pleasure making him gasp and clutch at Grimmjow's shoulders.

"Good, yeah?" Grimmjow grunted, shoving his hips upward to meet Renji's movements.

"Ah! Yeah! S-So good!" Renji was moving faster now, unable to stop himself. He shifted his body a bit and shouted again when the head of Grimmjow's dick struck his prostate. "Oh! There! FUCK!" he yelled.

In response, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques flipped Renji backward onto the coffee table, pulled his legs up onto his shoulders and began a jack-hammering fucking that had the younger man wide-eyed and shouting underneath him. Within 5 strokes, Renji came … _hard_, his cum flying into his hair and face. Grimmjow didn't slow as he leaned forward and licked some off, sharing it with Renji in another one of those searing kisses. His hand went to Renji's softening member and stroked it to hardness again.

In less than two minutes, Renji came _again_. This time his eyes flew open and he held on for dear life as his prostate was pummeled by that oh-so-talented cock. He shouted out his ecstasy, wordless vocalizations that were pure pleasure. "Yeah," Grimmjow grunted. "Come for me, Red," he encouraged him, never slowing, fucking with long steady strokes. He reached between Renji's legs and grabbed the younger male's cock again, and Renji screeched at the sensation.

"No! Too sensitive! Stop! AHH!"

"No. Take it, Red!" Grimmjow grabbed Renji's wrists in one hand and held them over his head, still stroking his cock, still pounding his ass good, hitting the prostate with each stroke.

Renji struggled, the pleasure too intense, he couldn't stand it, he couldn't! "No! Ah ah ah NO!"

"Yes!" Grimmjow leaned down and bit Renji's right nipple. "Come with me, Red! C'mon, I'm gonna fill … you … _up_!" He slammed his cock home, sped up even faster, hitting his prostate harder! … and grinned down into Renji's wide-eyed, pleasure-ravaged face.

For the third time in ten minutes, Renji Abarai came _again_. Long, almost devoid of cum, but with heightened sensation that seemed to go on forever. Added to that, the feeling of hot cum filling his insides as Grimmjow grunted with his own orgasm, his cock deep inside Renji, pressed in to the hilt, twitching and pulsating inside him. He shouted, practically screamed as pleasure was yanked out of him unwillingly, torturously, almost painfully … it was fan-fucking-tastic.

Renji was gasping for breath, he had his arms clenched tightly around Grimmjow's neck, his whole body was shaking uncontrollably, his dick was soft and spent, lying defenseless on the tangle of Renji's red pubic hair. "God … ah god … good, that was _so_ good … ah god damn …"

Grimmjow chuckled and kissed Renji's neck. Yeah, it'd been good. He slowly withdrew his softening cock from the redhead's ass – making him gasp with the sensation – and pulled him back onto the couch, more on his lap, actually, petting him as he calmed down. "Wanna spend the night?"

"I … I think I'm gonna … have to," Renji breathlessly replied. "I don't … think I can move!"

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques chuckled again, stroking his fingertips lightly down Renji's flank. He watched closely and saw the goosebumps follow his touch, saw Renji's dick twitch a bit. "Oh, I think you'll be just fine. Here," he said as he slid Renji off his lap and onto the couch – where he flopped back dramatically. "I'll go run us a bath … and get us somethin' to eat and drink."

Renji opened one eye and looked at Grimmjow. He had an erection again, standing out beautifully from that patch of blue pubic hair. Renji looked up at the man's face, and had to smile in return at what he saw there. _Renji m'boy_ … he thought to himself, _it's gonna be a long FUN night._

XXX

Ichigo gave report and got out of the hospital as quickly as he could. The train ride home seemed to last forever, he'd never been happier to see his apartment door. When he got inside and slammed the door behind him, he leaned against it, eyes closed. What. A. Long night. Now he was back home, out of the view of prying eyes, away from everyone and everything that had a claim on his consciousness.

He took out his phone and watched the video again. His erection sprang up almost instantaneously. He rubbed it absently with one hand while he watched Renji brought to orgasm by the blue-haired man whose lap he occupied. It was so sexy, such a turn-on to watch, that Ichigo almost didn't get to the bathroom quickly enough before he had a blazing orgasm, making him grunt with its intensity.

He had supper. He read the paper.

He took a shower. He stroked one off again, watching the video with the phone held safely outside the spray. Grimmjow's face. Renji's face. That tattooed back, those flexing hips. That lewd sardonic SEXY grin.

He cleaned the house, just a bit. When it was time, he got ready for bed. He laid down and watched the video again, doubting it would cause another erection … but it did. So he rubbed one off again, watching the small screen, noting more detail as he got into it more and more: the muscles in Grimmjow's forearms as he clutched Renji's ass cheeks … the twitching motions of Renji's hips as he came in the bluenet's lap … Grimmjow licked his lips as he watched Renji come … the tightness of Grimmjow's hug when Renji fell, sated, onto his chest.

That fierce grin at the end, as Grimmjow stared straight into the camera. Almost … almost like he knew ….

Like he knew that Ichigo would watch it. That Ichigo would be entranced by it. That it would be the latest and greatest entry in his spank bank. Ichigo played the video forward 'til he could see that expression again … it was around the eyes. A knowing look. The grin was challenging, fierce, salacious, like he was a big cat who'd just pounced on and taken down a wildebeest. But the eyes … the eyes said, _watch me, Ichigo. You can't help it, can you. Watch me and wonder_.

Ichigo threw the phone down on the bed in disgust. Okay, now he was getting stupid and paranoid. Ridiculous.

But still. What had happened after that? That Renji and Grimmjow had gone off and done whatever – of that he had no doubt. But what. And how. And what would it be like?

Enough. Ichigo laid down, pleasantly sleepy and tired (of course: all that coming), and closed his eyes. When the video tempted him he pushed it aside, and bid goodnight to all his beloveds. Repeating their names calmed him, soothed his soul, reaffirmed his purpose here on this earth, and healed his aching heart. _I love you all_, he thought. _I always will_. With their names resounding in his mind, Ichigo fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

XXX

**End Chapter 9**

**Thanks for reading! XD**

**And thank you so much, all who have followed this story. I truly appreciate! Thanks to all who have reviewed, too, of course! Hehe**

**More soon!**

**Ahvienda**


	10. Chapter 10 Turnabout is Fair Play?

**Chapter 10 – Turnabout is … Fair Play?**

**The usual warnings and disclaimers apply. (No, I'm not getting lazy, just wanna post this!) XD**

Once again, Ichigo awoke before the alarm clock had the chance to do the job for him, but only by about 15 minutes or so. He switched it off as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, raking his hair with one hand as he stretched. It was dark, of course, but the smell of coffee made him perk up and get up. Quick stop by the bathroom, then into the kitchen for his first cup of the "day". The little night light gave just enough light to pour and doctor up a cup, then he padded into the living room area to pull aside the drapes and blinds to look outside.

It was a calm night, appeared to be a slight breeze blowing if the trees were any indication. Ichigo could see the river from this living room window, a ribbon of black in the near distance. He lifted the cup of fragrant, hot coffee to his lips and drank. It was times like these that were meant for contemplation, reflection, goal-planning – all those things that Ichigo considered markers that distinguished humans from beasts.

The first thing he was going to do was delete the video Tots had sent. He didn't want to look at it anymore, analyzing it and wishing/hoping/fantasizing that he was in Renji's place. (Or in Grimmjow's place? Yikes.) So no more. He'd send a reply to Tatsuki, "Whoa" or "Hot damn!" or something like that, and then send it off to the cyberspace graveyard. He needed to keep his mind on the budding relationship he was entering into with Kuchiki-sensei, not jerking off to a scene he had no business fixating on. In fact … he turned away from the window, letting the black-out drape fall back into place, and went back into the bedroom, picking his phone up and out of the charger. Disciplining himself to keep from watching it again, he selected the video and deleted it before he could change his mind. This was the beginning of a new day in Ichigo's life, a new relationship was blossoming, and he needed to keep his priorities in order.

He walked back into the living room with his phone in hand. As he migrated back to the home screen, he caught sight of the date. In a few hours, at midnight, it would be September X. He stopped mid-step, staring at the screen. How timely. It was a reminder, he thought. Tomorrow was the anniversary of the death of one of Ichigo's beloveds. Hashimoto Hayato, 38-year-old salary man, father of two, divorcee, he'd been one of the "regular guys" you see on the train every day, going to work and getting the job done. But then, of course, Fate had intervened. It had been Springtime when it all started, Autumn when it ended, although two years had gone by in the interim.

Ichigo walked back to the couch, placed his phone on the coffee table, and retrieved the scrapbook from its cubby. He held it in his lap for a moment, stroking the leather cover, thinking about Hayato. Then he opened it and paged through it to Hayato's picture. There he was, in suit and tie, those narrow glasses on his face, a bright smile that reached his eyes, his pale skin a study in contrast to his black hair and dark brown eyes. This was the picture that had been alongside his obituary, of course, taped carefully in place the day after Hayato's funeral. What a horrible day that had been. "Hello, Hayato," Ichigo whispered, touching the photo with one finger. "It's tomorrow, isn't it." He took a deep, shuddering breath and fell into memory.

_Hashimoto Hayato had graduated from university and gone into his father's marketing and advertising business. Although he would not inherit (that would be the older son, Daisuke, a pernicious prick that Ichigo still fiercely hated for his ill treatment and involvement in the death of his younger brother), his father took him into the business and put him on the fast track to at least a VP position within the huge organization. Hayato had married two years after he entered the business, to a young lady chosen by his family, and they'd had two children that Hayato had absolutely adored. _

_But there had been problems in the relationship from the start. Neither had loved the other, and on Hayato's part the growing of a love relationship with his wife was just not in the cards. Hayato was gay, had had several lovers during his college days, and had fought the feelings for years once he had done his familial duty and was married. He'd never been unfaithful to his wife, not in all the years they were married. But suppressing oneself was hard to do – it eroded Hayato's sense of self and caused him incredible unhappiness even as he reveled in being a father. Finally, after all the years of unhappy cohabitation with his wife, Midori, he had come out to her. Apparently the scene was dramatic and tragic, resulting in Hayato being thrown out of their home – and then the rest of the two families had been brought into the picture._

_Enter Daisuke, Hayato's older brother and the future shacho of the family business. Straight-laced, firm and unbending in his moral code, he wanted their father to disown Hayato and eject him from the business and the family. This did not happen, much to Daisuke's anger and dismay. Still in the shadow of his father, he made Hayato's life a torment, treating him with scorn and derision unless it benefitted the company for him to pretend otherwise._

_But Hayato had a love of life that was bigger than his older brother. He didn't become a 'flamer', but he refused to pretend to be straight when that was obviously /not/ what he was. He had a couple minor relationships, but none that went past a few dates … none that seemed destined to deepen into the life-partnership kind of love that he wanted. Midori didn't hamper his relationship with the children, even though Daisuke tried to alienate Hayato from the entire family, and his life was happier than it had been since his college days … although, something was still missing. A big something. And Hayato-san was beginning to feel the stirrings of despair._

_April X, 200X. While waiting for the train that would take him to work, Hayato was falsely accused of feeling up a teenager who was standing near him on the platform. An argument ensued, wherein the teenager (who had actually been attracted to Hayato and was considering hitting on him) tried to save face and turn the attention of the bystanders away from himself. A fight had broken out, accompanied by pushing and shoving – and Hayato had been too close to the edge of the platform when the train entered the station. He'd been clipped by the slowing train, and had thus ended up in Karakura General._

_Eventually, he'd ended up in Ichigo's care. Although he'd been seriously injured by the train and was quite a bit older than Ichigo – none of that mattered. He'd cared for the man for 3 months and he'd loved him. When Ichigo had arrived for work the night of the day Hayato woke up, he'd been overjoyed to see the man turn his head and smile. Of course, the next day he'd been moved out of the Coma Care Center, but Ichigo had gone to see him – and a friendship was born. He remembered the memorable day that the friendship had blossomed into something deeper – at least from Hayato's point of view. Ichigo had already fallen for the man while caring for him. It was practically inevitable._

_Ichigo had gone over to Hayato's apartment in the afternoon, two movies in the pocket of his hoodie, in order to have a few beers and watch movies. They had spoken about going out later on to Shinjuki Ni-Chome, hit a couple gay bars and see what's what, maybe spend the weekend in Tokyo. With one of the movies playing on ignored in the background, Ichigo had found himself in the role of counselor as Hayato almost-tearfully told about the way Daisuke had treated him at work earlier that day, ridiculing him stridently in the men's room. To see the older man struggling to control himself had awakened all Ichigo's old protective feelings, and he'd taken the man in his arms, patting his back consolingly, murmuring endearments and words of encouragement. _

_Hayato had pulled away a bit, wiping his face and chuckling weakly. "Poor Ichigo-kun, stuck on a Friday with an old man like me … you should be out with your friends, having a good time and meeting someone who is right for you."_

_Ichigo held on, smiling tenderly into the older man's face. "I like older guys," he said, using one hand to wipe a tear from his beloved's cheek. "Don't worry about me, I'm happy being here."_

"_Ha-ha," Hayato had replied, cheeks reddening a bit. "I'm an old man, Ichigo-kun, compared to you. You … you're beautiful, you know. And it shows the beauty of your soul that you take up your time with someone like me." He was abashed, embarrassed, and feeling raw from Daisuke's treatment._

"_What do you mean 'someone like you'? You're a good-looking man, Hayato-san … anyone can see that. What does it matter that you're ten years older than me?"_

"_Fourteen."_

"_Ten, fourteen, whatever. You don't understand how attractive you are." Ichigo nodded firmly when he said this, bumped his forehead against Hayato's cheek, and gave him a one-armed squeeze. That's when he'd noticed the bulge in his beloved's pants and looked up to see hot spots of color in his cheeks as he kept his eyes lowered. _Ahh_, he thought. _Hayato is an older _uke_, no wonder he's having trouble hooking up and is feeling despair._ It wasn't easy to find a younger guy that wanted to take on an older uke. But if there was one willing man for the job – it was Kurosaki Ichigo._

"_Hey," he said, placing a finger under Hayato's chin. "Look at me, please, Hayato-san," he said gently. The older man looked up. Ichigo took off his glasses. "You are amazing, Hayato-san. Attractive, handsome … do not despair, okay? Good things come to those who wait." He smiled at Hayato, put a hand on his cheek, and leaned in to kiss his lips._

_Hayato straightened up in shock, his eyes opening wide. He pulled back, put a hand to his mouth. "I-Ichigo-kun … w-what … what are you doing?" His face had blanched … now it bloomed with a rosy blush._

"_Kissing you, Hayato-san," Ichigo had said, in order to let Hayato know that it hadn't been a mistake or something done on impulse. "I would like to do it again."_

"_I … I …" Hayato stopped, his hand still to his mouth. "Are … you feeling sorry for me?" Tears glistened in his eyes._

"_Never. In all the feelings I have for you, Hayato-san, 'sorry' is nowhere in sight."_

"_Feelings? For me?" He looked up into Ichigo's eyes, then dropped his gaze again._

"_Of course. You don't remember, but I have been telling you how I felt about you for months."_

"_While … while I was sleeping."_

"_Yes, Hayato-san." Ichigo tilted his head up again with a finger under the chin. "I would like to kiss you again. Is that all right?"_

_An almost-unnoticeable nod of the head was all the answer he received, but it was all he needed. They hadn't gone to Ni-Chome, hadn't gone to Tokyo at all, hadn't left Hayato-san's apartment even, the whole weekend. But they hadn't "done it" either … Ichigo read the signs: Hayato's crushed ego and self-esteem needed boosting before anything further could happen. So they'd kissed and cuddled and slept in each other's arms, shared cooking their meals, held hands while they watched TV, Ichigo had fallen asleep with his head in Hayato's lap, his fingers combing through the unruly orange spikes. It was what Hayato had needed, more than sexual release – he'd needed to know that he was lovable. He'd needed tenderness and loving caresses. The older man needed to be wooed._

_The next weekend was similar … although they spent it at Ichigo's apartment and did venture out at different times. But the weekend after that was another story. Still reading the signs, Ichigo perceived that Hayato had begun to wonder if Ichigo was really attracted to him physically, or if he was merely catering to the emotional needs of an aged former patient. So Ichigo cleared up the mystery for him. Definitively. _

"_Hayato-san," he'd breathed while they kissed, "I want you. Please say you feel the same way." His voice was raw and slightly rough._

_The panting older man was practically beside himself with desire, but his inhibitions reared their ugly heads once again. "I … I'm too old for you, Ichigo-kun … you don't have to … pretend—"_

_Ichigo took his hand and placed it on his (Ichigo's) crotch. "What part of this is pretense, Hayato-san?" he asked as he held the older man's hand there. Ichigo's dick throbbed against Hayato's palm, who gasped and shuddered lightly with the sensation._

"_I-Ichigo-kun," he'd moaned, and Ichigo hadn't needed to be a mind-reader to know what to do next. Taking on the role of seme wasn't his first choice maybe, but he didn't mind it and had enjoyed Hayato-san's reactions. In fact, the sex had been _amazing_. That weekend, Hayato had blossomed … the boost in self-confidence had brought out his natural good humor and sweetness, his maturity had a tinge of innocence to it that was very attractive. _

_He met someone through work … an artist, 26 years old, who was tall and bold and handsome. His interest in Hayato-san was immediate and he left no doubt as to what he wanted. Hayato was understandably flattered … and something more. Ichigo encouraged him to see the man, saying that he had no ties or chains on him – that was not how things worked. So Ichigo became friends with the artist – Takano Yoshi – and gradually handed over the older man to him. It was done so skillfully and tenderly that Hayato-san didn't feel as though he'd broken Ichigo's heart … or that he'd been given away because Ichigo was tired of him, nothing of the kind. Hayato and Yoshi were on the fast track to a loving long-term relationship, aided and watched over by their good friend Ichigo, when tragedy struck._

_Ichigo had to hear about it on the news. Murder most foul on a cool September evening. Hayato and Yoshi were both shot and killed outside Yoshi's penthouse, gunned down in what looked like a hit, yakuza-style. It was only after months that the story came out in its entirety – that Daisuke had been behind the whole thing, murder bought and paid for by a jealous bitter older brother. He'd been sent to prison and his family had almost not weathered the scandal in one piece. Things were better now, Ichigo knew, and the company – although smaller – was still in business. Hayato's son and daughter both worked for the family. In the public, the murder was mostly forgotten._

_But not by Ichigo. Not for one day. _

_Hayato-san_, he thought. _I love you. I miss you. Every day. Are you happy with Yoshi in your afterlife? Tell him I said hello._ He'd go and visit the grave in the morning, after work. Ichigo thought about Daisuke, in prison for life, and was glad. _I'm sorry, beloved, _he thought to Hayato-san, _I'm sorry that I still hate your brother, even though you are beyond such things as hatred. I'll never forgive him for taking the both of you away._ He looked at the sweetly handsome face, stroked it again with one finger, and then closed the scrapbook. Ichigo sighed, rubbing his eyes. It would be a long day. He'd best get ready for work and get started on it.

XXX

The day started off quite differently for two men who had spent a rough raucous night in Szayel's house. Ichigo had long been at work and had left again before Renji woke up. He awakened first, stretching carefully and wincing when pain shot through his lower back. Yeah, it had been _that_ kind of night! Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was a prodigious lover, insatiable and skilled – he'd hit just the right tone for what Renji wanted and needed: a rough-and-tumble night with someone who'd knock down his defenses and take advantage, sail through his limits and drain Renji dry. Which he did, all of the above.

Renji grinned as he recalled getting fucked in the shower, bent over to hang onto the door's hand rail, Grimmjow standing behind him, hands gripping Renji's hips tightly, their flesh smacking wetly as he drove it home. Grimm's growling voice had echoed in the shower stall, issuing commands and compliments in the same salacious tone. He'd grabbed Renji's hair and held onto it, pulling Renji's head back and arching his back – so that he could hit a bruised and battered prostate gland over and over again. It had been … totally fucking amazing. Then they'd fallen into bed and into an exhausted but satisfied sleep.

Renji sighed with a satiated smile, then gently pulled back the covers, careful to not disturb the sleeping man beside him. It was time to go.

…

Now when Grimmjow woke up, he also stretched. And yawned, his jaw cracking. He rubbed his stomach and slitted one eye open to look beside him. An empty side of the bed met his gaze. He frowned and looked at the alarm clock. It was only 10 a.m. – Renji worked the afternoon shift so he wouldn't have really needed to leave so early, he wasn't due at the hospital until 3 p.m.

When he sat up and rubbed a rough hand through his hair, Grimmjow had already come to the realization that he didn't really have any reason to get ticked off or even concerned. The night with Renji Abari had every indication of being a one-night-stand, and actually? That was all right with Grimm. The redhead was a good-looking motherfucker, but he wasn't really what Grimmjow would call his 'type'. Renji's submissiveness had been something he'd 'put on' for the evening, and although that was just fine (Grimmjow couldn't have cared less what the man's inner motivations were as long as he got to get his rocks off seme-style) he still couldn't help but think of Ichigo. Ichigo, whose submissiveness came out despite himself. Grimmjow felt a hot slippery feeling deep in his groin when he remembered being at the park with the younger man. Uh-huh. It didn't matter how many Renjis entered the picture, there was only one Ichigo.

Grimm got up and stretched again, his long muscular body all planes and angles in the slanted light peeking in through the slit in Szayel's drapes. Nude, he ambled to the kitchen to start some coffee, then went back into the bedroom, stripped the bed and threw the linens into the washing machine, then hit the bathroom. After a quick shower, he shook the water from his hair, toweled dry, and walked – naked once again – back into the kitchen to get a cup of fresh hot coffee.

He drank it black, sighing with pleasure when the bold taste bit into his tongue. Good stuff. He walked through the living room to the foyer and cracked open the door, warily retrieved the newspaper, then shut and locked the door behind him. It was then that he noticed a note laying on the table in the foyer. "Thanks for the … hospitality – R." with a funny little crooked heart kind of thing after his name. Grimmjow snorted, but he was smiling when he went out the patio doors to sit next to the pool (fully fenced, thank you very much) and read the morning's paper.

XXX

When Ichigo got off shift and reported to Chad, he was very excited about Shinji's condition. The young man gave every indication that he would be waking soon. In fact, Kuchiki-sensei had ordered that Shin be taken off the respirator – he hadn't needed the assist from the machine at all since the first day when he'd fought the vent. Now Shinji still had the trach, but it was no longer hooked up to the respirator. If this continued, soon they'd be discussing reversing his tracheostomy! And that, folks, would be absolutely _awesome_.

He got to the locker room in time to see Kuchiki-sensei – _Byakuya_, he told himself – changing into street clothes. The man would have office hours today in the afternoon, but this morning he was free now that he'd finished his rounds. Ichigo's face lit up as he smiled at the older man. Sensei eyed the oranget and let the corner of his mouth quirk upwards a bit as he nodded. They were not alone in the locker room, though, so Ichigo went to his locker and opened it, took out his street clothes, and began to change.

Since he was planning on visiting Hayato's grave this morning, he was dressing up a bit. It wasn't respectful to his beloved to show up in shorts or torn jeans. He had a pair of dark blue dress pants, a pale blue dress shirt, and black ankle boots with a matching belt. He was threading the belt through the loops when the night-shift respiratory therapist left and he and Sens—_Byakuya_ were alone.

"You look nice, Ichigo-kun," Byakuya said softly. "Big day today?"

What could he tell him. Might as well make it the truth but not the whole truth. "I go today to visit a grave … someone I used to be very close to." Still am, but that's not for telling.

"I see. Anyone I might have known?" Byakuya was slipping his shirt on, his chest muscles rippling as he raised his arms and slid into the sleeves.

"Yes, I think so. Do you remember Hashimoto Hayato? He was a patient here –"

"Yes, of course," Byakuya murmured. He was buttoning up the shirt. "He awakened. And then …."

"Yes."

"Ah." Byakuya tucked his shirt into his pants and picked up his wallet, sliding it into a back pocket. "You knew Hashimoto-san? Outside of the hospital, I mean."

"He … he was my patient," Ichigo said, shutting his locker door and turning back around to face Byakuya over the low bench seat between them. "And then after he woke up, we became friends."

"An older man, as I recall," Byakuya said, slipping into his suit jacket, shooting the cuffs. Then he, too, stood still and looked at Ichigo.

"Yes," Ichigo said, feeling his traitorous cheeks begin to redden. "He was only 38 when he … died." He bent over to pick up his bento box off the bench, hoping his blush would die quickly.

"I remember." Byakuya bent over too, picking up his briefcase. "May I ask you, Ichigo-kun … do you visit the graves of all your patients?" He was looking curiously at Ichigo, his head cocked to one side, but still held high in an imperious manner.

Here we go. "Yes. Yes, I do," Ichigo replied, holding his own head high, chin out defensively. His mouth opened and the words poured out. "They were my patients … I cared for them … even though some of them never spoke a word to me, I knew them well. I … it's hard to explain, Sensei." Ichigo cut himself off before he started saying things that the doctor probably would not understand.

"I see," Byakuya said. His gaze was pensive.

Ichigo wanted to be held. He wanted to kiss that tall man's beautiful mouth, to feel his arms come around him tightly. But Sensei appeared so aloof … he couldn't make himself step forward and make a move, for fear he'd be rejected or at the very least, deflected. Instead, he looked at the black-haired man, clutching his wrapped bento box in both fists, cheeks flaming.

Byakuya came to him. The next thing Ichigo knew, his lips were being coaxed open by a warm wet tongue. He returned the kiss gratefully, needing the close contact, the caring implied by the shared intimacy of a kiss. Sensei's arms came around him, pulling him close – in order to rub his hardness against Ichigo's crotch. "I want you, Ichigo-kun," he whispered, then kissed him again, longer and more desirous.

Ichigo wanted Byakuya, too … but his emotions were all tangled up on this day, and he could have just used some comfort instead of a sexual come-on. It was slightly disappointing that Byakuya could not sense that … but that wasn't fair, really. On top of the disappointment, he was feeling scandalized about Hayato-san's day turning into a sex romp. He couldn't let that happen.

So he kissed the older man back, but held back his ardor and kept his responses cool. He kept his head even when Byakuya moaned his name and began dry-fucking him through their clothes. It was only the noisy arrival of last night's orderlies that had them springing apart like a couple of guilty kids, each one suddenly very interested in their prospective briefcase/bento box. The orderlies were only stopping off to grab the car keys that the carpool driver had forgotten in his locker, and when they left again it was a different atmosphere in the locker room.

"I sense that my … advances are slightly unwelcome today," Byakuya said softly, never one to beat around the bush in any situation.

"N-no," Ichigo said, slightly horrified. "Sensei, I … I'm sorry, I'm just a little distracted today. I'm sorry." He snapped his mouth shut before he began apologizing too much, like a pathetic broken record. The last thing Ichigo wanted was to alienate Sensei - dammit BYAKUYA … but his hands were tied. Today was Hayato-san's day.

"You are making a cemetery visit," Byakuya said smoothly. "I understand that you may not feel very … amorous. I apologize for intruding into your grief." Now he sounded slightly affronted. His face was stony, his eyes a bit cold when he looked down into Ichigo's, although the tone of his words was conciliatory.

"Sensei, I'm very sorry. And I certainly don't mean to make you think that I don't want you. I do. But today … as you said, it's a solemn day for me. Please forgive me if I have made you feel uncomfortable in any way," Ichigo said seriously as he bowed. "It was not my intention. I apologize."

A hand patted him softly on the head. "Ichigo-kun," Byakuya began, "we have much to learn about each other. It will take time. I will try to remain patient and will work on becoming more … understanding." When Ichigo raised his head, Byakuya leaned forward and kissed him again, but this time it was sweet and calm, not the sensual onslaught of the first one.

Ichigo's heart melted as he returned the kiss. This would work. It would.

Byakuya's hand patted his cheek softly. "If you find yourself with free time today, chibi-tan, do not hesitate to contact me. Office hours end at 5. I would very much appreciate the opportunity to make it up to you, and perhaps … to make you feel better." His hand caressed and stroked Ichigo's cheek, then slid down his neck and rested on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Sensei," Ichigo said, relief saturating his voice. "I will do so if I can. Thank you." He lifted his face and received another soft kiss in return.

"Good. And you do not need to thank me. I will be thinking about you today. I hope you will do me the honor of doing the same." Byakuya was holding himself back. Now that he'd re-experienced what he called 'the strength and fire of a man', he wanted to immerse himself in it. He'd been spoiled all his life and was used to getting what he wanted with a minimum of fuss and energy on his part … so it rankled that a dead man was coming between him and what he wanted. He wanted Ichigo to want him just as badly, _more_ actually. Being 'turned down' was not something that Byakuya ever suspected would happen this morning … if at _all_.

The over-confident Kuchiki-sensei had even already booked a hotel room for himself and Ichigo. So now, yes … he was slightly ticked off that his plans were being curtailed – cancelled? – by a _dead man_. Was this for real? He endeavored not to show any of this to Ichigo, and for the most part, he was successful. But his pride had taken a hit, however slight, and so perhaps his actions when he left the locker room could be excused if one took all this into consideration.

Or, perhaps not.

XXX

Ichigo knelt in front of the small shrine, clapped his hands together, then placed them palms-together to pray. His eyes were closed, his back straight. The incense he'd lit softly scented the area around the grave, and the white calla lilies glowed, fleshy and fresh, where he'd laid them down on the small altar.

The mausoleum was grand, befitting the Hashimoto family's name, their esteem in the community (and in the country) for many generations. Hayato-san's grave wasn't the newest, but it was certainly close. His picture was long since gone, removed by either Hayato's wife or perhaps his children. But Ichigo felt his presence … and Yoshi's, too … as he knelt there and spoke to his beloved.

He didn't dwell on the accident or Hayato-san's murder … instead he relived the times they'd had together, the laughter and the fun, moments of shared _life_ that becomes the history that binds two people together. The time that Ichigo had attempted to make curry and caught the stove on fire – something that could have turned tragic but instead had been like something out of the 3 Stooges. The time that he, Hayato-san, and Yoshi had gone skiing and had instead spent the whole time drinking and telling stories in front of the huge fireplace at the resort. The time Ichigo had burst in on Hayato-san and Yoshi in flagrante delicto … and instead of freaking out Yoshi had tried to get Ichigo to join in … but they'd all ended up laughing so hard as they tried to work out the logistics that they'd gone out for ramen instead.

He spent two hours there on his knees, talking to his beloved. Near the end of the visit, the tears couldn't be held back. He'd been thinking about the last time he'd seen Hayato-san, they'd had coffee together and did a crossword puzzle. Ichigo had sat between Hayato-san's legs, on the floor, and the older man had played with his hair while Ichigo filled in the puzzle. It had been low-key, non-demanding … not much had happened, but the scene was filled with such gentle happiness that it seemed to define Ichigo's relationship with the older man. Gentle happiness. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"I miss you, Hayato-san," he said again. "I miss you so much." He leaned forward, placed his hands palm-down on the marble flooring, and bowed until his forehead touched the ground. He stayed that way for a while, reaffirming his ever-lasting love to one of his beloveds.

When he got up to leave, his joints were stiff. His knees would have red marks from kneeling for hours afterward. He caught the train back to south Karakura, his gaze distant and his manner discouraging small talk. He arrived home at about 11 a.m., took a shower, and fell into bed. After saying goodnight to his beloveds, he was asleep in moments.

XXX

"Good morning, Sensei," Luppi said as he gazed up at masculine perfection. Byakuya Kuchiki was riding down to the parking garage in the elevator with him. A visual bonus for sure. He smiled his sweetest, cutest smile as he looked up at the sexy doctor.

"Atenor-san," Byakuya said, his ticked-offedness coming out as extra coolness. He was still smarting from his encounter with Ichigo in the locker room. No, it wasn't a huge hit to his ego, that would be silly … but still. He wasn't happy.

"It's going to be a beautiful day, I think, Kuchiki-sama," Luppi said. He was a smart-ass little guy, but he was also a _smart_ little guy. And as has been previously disclosed – Luppi was cute. You had to admit it: he was small and slight, but still sexy in a young teenaged-boy way, with a pretty face and violet-blue eyes. There were many _many_ men who liked that look. Luppi was hoping that today, Byakuya was one of them!

"Do you?" Byakuya replied, already tired of the conversation. He just wanted to get home and forget about the morning. Oh, and he had to call and cancel that reservation at the hotel. Or should he? Perhaps Ichigo would want to spend the evening later, and Byakuya could spend the night after Ichigo left for work? Hmm. He was considering it when, out of nowhere, Luppi Atenor was standing right in front of him.

"Did you hear me, Sensei?" Luppi was saying, his little face concerned as he gazed up into Byakuya's eyes.

Byakuya looked down into wide blue eyes, noting that Luppi had a facial tattoo that was really quite exquisite when you took in his whole heart-shaped little face. Adoration. That was what was shining in the almost-purple eyes staring up at him. "Sensei?" he whispered, putting a hand on Byakuya's arm, the small fingers a distinct contradiction to Byakuya's muscled forearm in the dark blue pinstriped suit jacket. "Are you all right, Kuchiki-sama?"

_Sama_. The honorific spoke volumes. Byakuya looked down and did not move back away from Luppi. "I am well, Atenor-kun. Yourself?"

_I could be better_, Luppi thought, but out loud he said, sweetly (and I really mean sweetly, not fake sugary sweetness, really and truly sweetly) "Oh, I'm sorry, Sensei … you seemed a little distracted or something … I was concerned." He was still standing close, looking up.

Byakuya heard the ding of the elevator bell as the doors opened into the parking garage. "We're here," he said unnecessarily, and for some reason, he motioned for Luppi to precede him. "But Atenor-kun, why are you here? This is not your shift, surely."

Which had Luppi giggling internally. _Perfect. He knows things about me, that means there's interest_. He walked out, looking over his shoulder at Sensei, saying carefully, "I had to come in to do some paperwork, Kuchiki-sama," but then he stopped – and stopped walking abruptly, too, putting a hand to his forehead.

Delicate fingers. Delicate slender wrist. Girlish but definitely male. Byakuya saw all this even as he said, "Atenor-kun? Are you all right?"

"I … I feel faint … or I don't know …" Luppi said, acting for all he was worth. "S-Sensei? I don't feel so good." He swayed on his feet, rejoicing inside when he felt two strong arms come around him from behind.

"Atenor-kun?" Byakuya knelt down on one knee, still holding Luppi firmly, and sat Luppi on his thigh. "Atenor-kun, can you hear me?" He looked up to see if anyone was around to help, but there was no-one. Day shift had come in, night shift had gone home.

"Sensei?" The little voice pulled his attention back to the vision of cuteness that looked up at him. Eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted to show pearly teeth, leaning back against Byakuya's arm weakly. A delicate pink tongue came out to lightly lick the full bottom lip. Byakuya's attention was caught and held. "Sensei …."

"I'm right here," Byakuya murmured, his abdominal muscles clenching as his cock stirred in his pants. When the small brunet slid both arms around Byakuya's waist and pressed his hot little face to Byakuya's chest, blood roared into his penis, and he knew Atenor-kun had to feel it, he _had_ to, his hip was pressed right up against it. "Are—" his voice was raspy, so he cleared his throat, "are you feeling better now, Atenor-kun?"

"I think so," he said, his voice muffled as he still had his face pressed against that muscular chest, and Byakuya could feel those lips moving against him when he spoke. He shuddered in response. Luppi raised his head again and looked up into Byakuya's face. He said, "Sensei … I want … I … I want ..." and sighed, eyelashes fluttering slightly as his eyes half-closed, moist lips parted and _ready_.

…

_Any red-blooded seme would have done the same thing_, Byakuya told himself later. Especially one who'd just been coldly turned down by his new 'lover'. Well, maybe 'coldly' was putting it too harshly, but the turning down part was irrefutable. He'd leaned down and kissed those little lips and they'd responded, warmly and instantly. That's how they'd ended up in Byakuya's car for an hour, first while Luppi Atenor had given him an extremely skilled blowjob … and then while he'd sat on Byakuya's lap, facing him, pants off, shirt unbuttoned, reveling in sensation as he rode Byakuya's dick.

Sure they could have been caught. But they weren't. It had been exciting as all hell, getting a blowjob while he sat there, keeping an eye on the parking garage for anyone who might come near. It felt like he'd come buckets as the little brunet lapped it all up, cooing and giggling in delight. He was cute as could be, that was for damn sure. How had he not noticed it all this time? To excuse himself he reminded himself that he'd been repressing his inner nature for a very long time.

Then the little scamp had slid sexily onto his lap, kissing him, offering his nipples for play, his small but well-formed and hard-as-a-rock dick poking straight out from his crotch. He was hairless, which reinforced the youthful package he presented. But he was by no means virginal or unskilled. He'd sat down on Byakuya's cock and taken it all in, and Byakuya had watched for as long as he could, still with that exciting feeling of 'we could get caught!', until he'd fired off inside the young man, groaning with pleasure and thrusting upward into him.

Luppi Atenor had come, too, oh you damn skippy he did. He'd been wanting a onesie with Byakuya Kuchiki for a long LONG time, and now here it was. He didn't know what had changed to make it possible, but he wasn't going to question it. Sah-weet! Afterwards, he'd cleaned up the big handsome sensei and put his clothes back on, with lots of kisses and giggles and shy touches (might as well leave the door open for future trysts, eh?) and then practically danced his way to his own car. Awesome!

…

Byakuya Kuchiki drove home, feeling much better about himself and his entire situation. He took a shower and changed, had lunch with Rukia, and then went in and saw patients at his office. Afterward, he took the office staff out for supper and drinks, demurring when they suggested an after-party that included karaoke, and was driven home by his driver. He arrived at approximately 9 p.m., did some paperwork and progress notes on the patients he'd seen that day, and had a late snack. Not once did he consider Ichigo … how his day had gone, how the oranget might be feeling now after going to commune with the dead, or that he should feel guilty about what he'd done with Luppi-kun. In fact, when he took another shower before going to bed, he'd cranked one off in the hot spray, thinking of that lithe little body in his lap that morning.

When he laid down to sleep, Ichigo did cross his mind, but he pushed the thoughts away before they could _even_ turn into something disparaging. He refused to feel guilt about something so minor. Something that, if you thought about it, Kurosaki had almost _caused_ – by refusing Byakuya's advances, no matter the reason. And had the orange-haired man called today to accept Byakuya's offer of comfort and care? No. So Byakuya Kuchiki went to sleep feeling just fine, thank you very much. Sated, righteous, pride back in place, and just _fine_.

XXX

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques wasn't feeling all that fine. He had read the paper, got dressed, cleaned house, went shopping, and then went to see Szayel. No change. Not one fucking bit. He was getting distressed, no matter what Renji or Ichigo said, that it could take time to get Zay's hormones back in order, that his coma was more than likely temporary, that his brother wasn't suffering and would be just _fine_. He was going to have it out with that Kuchiki prick in the morning when the man came in for rounds. He wanted some definitive answers.

He was sitting on the couch when Ichigo came through the door to start his shift. Grimmjow stood up, ready to do battle … but then he caught sight of Ichigo's face. The guy's eyes were red and his lids were a little swollen-looking. Like he had one vicious cold or … had been crying? "Ichigo?" he asked gently as he approached him, one hand out unconsciously. "Are you okay?"

Ichigo looked up into blue-blue eyes and straightened his shoulders. "Yeah. I'm okay. Thanks, Jaegerjaques-san," he said, subdued.

"I don't think so," Grimmjow said, his deep voice still soft. "C'mere, siddown, I gotcha a coffee not a half-hour ago 'cause I knew you were comin' in. It's just how ya like it." He caught Ichigo's hand and pulled him toward the couch. "C'mon, the guys are okay, Renji took good care of 'em today."

Renji. Calling Renji by his first name. Ichigo squashed a sharp painful feeling in his gut and accepted the coffee. He took a taste to gauge the temperature, then took a larger swallow. It was good. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem." Grimm looked at the orange-haired male, critically noting his subdued demeanor and his exhausted aura. "Bad day?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I … I have to get to work," Ichigo said, but feeling the pull because of the gentle tone and the concern evident on the other man's face.

"Okay, I understand that. You get to work … and I'll buy lunch for ya at midnight. Then you can talk my ear off. Deal?" His grin was a pleasure to look at. "Now go say hi to my brother … I think he missed ya today."

Ichigo, for some unknown reason, felt better already. He smiled, got to his feet, and went to say hello to his patients … two of his beloveds.

XXX

**End Chapter 10**

**Hope y'all enjoyed it … bit subdued this time, but moving the story along. **

**Thanks to all who review and mark the story (and/or me!) as a favorite! It's a compliment! XD**

**More coming soon ….**

**Ahvienda**


	11. Chapter 11 Revelations

**Chapter 11 – Revelations**

**Warnings: The usual – yaoi sex, foul language, adult situations.**

**Disclaimer: Not. Own. Bleach. Or the characters. Drat!**

Turning to his patients, Ichigo put the bad day behind him. It wouldn't do for him to approach his beloveds with a sad face and a bad mood … it wasn't their fault that today was the anniversary of Hayato-san's death. They deserved better than that. He went to Szayel-san first, scanning the patient visually, noting the sheen that had returned to the man's bright pink hair, the healthy glow to his once-hormone-ravaged skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. "Good evening, Szayel-san," he murmured, approaching and standing at the bedside. "You look good … Renji took good care of you today, I see." He checked the urine and feces bags, changed the IV fluid, and then got to work on the rest of his routine.

Renji had already provided mouth care, so Ichigo set up the man's parenteral nutrition bag and got it going. He removed the Texas catheter and cleaned Szayel's penis, then left it lying on a warm clean towel, like allowing a baby to go without a diaper so that the skin could get some air. The Texas catheter was much like wearing a condom with a tube that drained the urine by gravity. Wearing a condom 24-7 wasn't good for anyone, so Ichigo was vigilant in caring for that area's delicate skin.

He massaged Szayel's legs and set up the passive motion machine that would work his muscles. Then he turned to Shinji.

The blond was lying on his side, facing away from Ichigo. When Ichi walked around the bed, he saw that Shinji's eyes were open, staring sightlessly at nothing. He bent over to put himself into the man's line-of-sight and said, "Hello, Hirako-san. I missed you today." He laid a hand alongside the younger man's cheek and smiled into his eyes. "You look great. And I can tell you are feeling better. So I will say it again: whenever you wish to wake up, please do." Hidden from Jaegerjaques-san's view by the Japanese screen, he leaned forward and kissed Shinji's forehead. "Now let's get you taken care of, okay?"

He turned Shinji back onto his back, and did all the little necessary things to insure the man's comfort and healing. Mouth care, trach care, rubbing moisturizer into his skin, massaging his legs. When he set up the PM machine, Shinji's eyes were still open. He leaned over and smiled into his face. "I'll be back soon. Relax and enjoy, and I'll do your arms next."

Ichigo skipped his break, not wanting to have down-time to think about things. He collected blood, sputum, and urine samples for the lab, he worked both men's arms in the range-of-motion exercises, he did his charting. Lunch time came quicker than he would have thought. Soon enough, Ishida stood in the doorway, face expressionless behind the square rimless glasses he wore, watching Ichigo come out from behind Szayel's screen. Ichigo stripped off his gloves (he'd just finished putting Szayel's catheter back on), and tossed them into the waste bin. "Hi, Uryuu," he said. "Lunch time already?"

"Yep. And you don't have to give me mine, I only have one patient in my room now since Nnoitra-san has been moved out, so I took my lunch in the room." Ishida approached, looking at the monitors for both patients. "Anything to report?"

"Nope," Ichigo replied, aware that Grimmjow had stood up behind him and was currently stretching with a muffled yawn. "I have stuff to do after break, but it'll wait for me. Just keep an eye on them for me, and if Hirako-san makes any vocalizations, count them for me, would you?"

"No problem. Enjoy your lunch. And take your time." A glimmer of a smile on that stoic face, then he turned and went to check on Shinji.

"Ready ta go?" Grimmjow asked quietly, his so-blue eyes calm and steady as he looked down at Ichigo.

"Sure."

"Let's get something at the cafeteria," Grimmjow suggested, sliding his feet into his slippers, "and then we'll head up to the roof, that okay with you?"

"Fine." Ichigo's mood was slipping, now that he was 'off duty'.

…

Ten minutes later, the two men were settled on the roof, leaning back against the concrete railing, out of the chill breeze that had started up. Containers of food sat between them – each man had taken what he wanted and filled a Styrofoam plate that balanced on their respective laps. Chopsticks lightly clicked as they took the edge off their hunger, interspersed with sips of hot coffee.

When the feeding frenzy died down, Grimmjow spoke between bites. "So … I can tell ya had a shitty day today. Ya look like ya didn't get enough sleep or somethin'. Did anythin' happen?" He lifted some noodles as he spoke and popped them into his mouth when he stopped.

"Yeah. Well, kinda. Not today … it's like … " Ichigo paused, unsure how much he could actually tell the other man.

"Don't worry about what I think. Just spill," Grimmjow said after he swallowed. He picked up his coffee cup and gestured with it. "I think ya need to talk. And here I am, ready ta listen. Go ahead. Really."

Ichigo glanced at him. The bluenet's face was calm and composed, his forehead smooth. He gestured with the coffee cup again, as if to say, _go on, dammit_. Ichigo took a deep breath, running his free left hand through his hair. "It's … today – I mean, yesterday was the anniversary of the death of a very dear friend. He … he was a former patient of mine, we became friends after he woke up … and then a few months later, he was killed. Murdered. Pretty much by his own brother."

Grimmjow had stopped moving, his eyebrows up, eyes on the younger man. The slump of Ichigo's shoulders made it clear that the day had affected him profoundly. "By his brother, huh. What kind of mother-fucker does something like that."

"A jealous, bitter older brother who couldn't stand what his little brother had become," Ichigo said, his voice betraying his own bitterness. "Who couldn't stand that his family had accepted his younger's brother's lifestyle, who thought his little brother was damaging to the family name … who, _I think_, had a brother complex and was strangled by feelings of jealousy and fury that another man could have him while he could not." This was Ichigo's private theory.

These last words struck Grimmjow to the heart. He turned his face away as he considered the words 'brother complex'. Shit. Hadn't he had that, too, in a major way? Not any more, of course, those feelings had gone by the wayside long ago, now he only felt brotherly love toward Zay … but once upon a time, he'd harbored a fierce adoration for his older brother, a physical yearning that overcame all notions of propriety, the love that had burned inside him like a fucking bonfire. What would he have done, in the midst of all that, if his love wasn't returned by Szayel? If he had to watch him courted by, taken by, another man? What would he have done?

But now wasn't the time for shit like that, he reprimanded himself. That was OVER. "And he killed your friend," he said matter-of-factly. "Where's the cocksucker now?"

"Prison."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"So what happened today?" Grimmjow understood the sadness accompanying such an anniversary … but it seemed to him like there was something more.

"I went to visit Hayato-san's grave," Ichigo said, sighing out his beloved's name.

"Okay … go on." Grimmjow took another bite of noodles, removing the pressure of his gaze from Ichigo so he'd feel more comfortable about continuing.

"But …." After a false start, Ichigo's worries poured out in a flood. "But … I think I … Kuchiki-sensei a-approached me before that, wanting to go s-somewhere I think, but I couldn't, it was Hayato-san's day, and I had to tell him no, to put him off, and I think he was h-hurt or something because I turned him down, and I tried to explain but I don't think I did it very well, and I don't know, but I think maybe it's going to r-ruin everything before it even gets started, and I think it's all my fault, but I couldn't make him understand without telling him everything and I didn't want to do that. He wouldn't understand, he doesn't think like that, he doesn't feel like that, it's not the way he was brought up, but there was nothing else I could do, it was _Hayato_. I … there was nothing else I could do." Ichigo stopped himself from rambling. Even to his own ears it sounded stupid, but he couldn't tell any more. Jaegerjaques-san wouldn't understand. No-one would. Right?

"Hmm." Which was Grimmjow's only response. He looked at Ichigo through narrowed eyes, trying to hide his irritation at the confirmation of Dr. Prick as Ichigo's special person. Ichigo was quiet now, his head down, eating his fried rice. "I get the feelin' that this Hayato was more than just a friend," he said quietly. Ichigo's head jerked up. "No, no … no worries, yeah? Yer past is yer past, whoever was in it is no concern of mine, y'know," Grimmjow said soothingly. "Why couldn't ya just tell … Sensei … that this guy was more than just a friend?"

Ichigo bent his head back down again, staring at his plate. "'Cause he knew Hayato, too. He knew him from when he was a patient here. I was afraid he would think … I dunno … that I'd done something wrong. I just don't think he'd understand, I guess."

"Ya didn't even give him a chance, though, didja." Inside, Grimmjow couldn't believe he was standing up for Dr. Fuckface, what the fuck?! But if he didn't stand a chance with Ichigo any more, he had to accept a more minor role in the guy's life – and tonight that was the role of confidant. An ear to listen, as he had promised.

"I …" Ichigo stopped, looking skyward, thinking this over. Would Byakuya have understood? Somehow, he still didn't think so. And did he really _want_ to tell anyone all about his beloveds? Maybe, someday, if he met _that person_, the one he'd want to marry and spend the rest of his life with … then, certainly, yes. But this thing with Sensei was new … and if Ichigo wanted it to get to the point of 'always and forever', it wouldn't do to confess about his beloveds too soon. In his heart, Ichigo knew that _that person_ would understand. But was Byakuya 'that person'? It was too soon to tell.

Finally, he spoke into the near-darkness. "You don't understand. No, it's all right, you couldn't be expected to. And that's okay. But I just can't tell him about it. Not yet … and maybe not ever, I don't know. I just don't know!" Anxiety laced his voice, his grip on his chopsticks was white-knuckled.

"Well, if ya can't tell him, I can be pretty sure that ya can't tell me either, right?" Grimmjow drawled. "Hard for me ta believe that you'd be involved in somethin' shameful … just must be really private, yeah? So no problem. And I understand that, man, everybody has things they won't share … or at least won't share early on. It's okay." He took a long draw from his coffee cup.

"All I can tell ya is this: you gotta do what is right for you. If gettin' involved with somebody means that you gotta turn your back on your deepest convictions, then that person ain't right for ya. If it means ya gotta break yer most heartfelt promises, then it ain't gonna work. You'll end up hating yerself and nothin' can survive that. Trust me … I know." He stood up, brushed off his jeans, and ambled over to toss his trash into the bin. "I'll see ya downstairs, Ichigo-kun," he said. "Take all the time ya need, I'll keep an eye on that Ishida guy and make sure he doesn't get his panties in a twist." He flashed that wide, wicked grin and sauntered over to the door.

Ichigo watched him go. He rubbed his eyes and sighed deeply. Yeah. That was the problem. He wanted this relationship with Kuchiki-sensei to work. But he needed to keep his promises to his beloveds, too … to honor their memories (if deceased), and to continue to be there for the ones who still lived. Would Byakuya understand that? Ichigo's brow creased in worry. He'd always known that his heart could never be fully given, whole, to another person … that his beloveds accounted for too many pieces of it. _That person_ would have to understand. Was Byakuya capable of that kind of understanding? He sighed again.

Maybe he was worrying too soon. He couldn't help the way things had gone down earlier in the day, he'd just have to apologize to Sensei again and hope that they could work it out. Given the number of Ichigo's beloveds, he was almost certain to run into something along these lines again, in the future. Maybe by then Sensei would be … in love? … with Ichigo … or something. He stood up, gathering his trash and finishing off the coffee, then froze as his thoughts reverberated in his head. What in the fuck was he thinking. What in the FUCK. He stood there for several minutes, coming to terms with himself and his thoughts. "That person, that person" … what in the fuck was he thinking about?

Then he looked up at the starry sky. "I know you see me," he whispered. "I know you hear me. I love you all. I will not abandon you. Ever." THAT was the promise that he intended to keep until the day he died. So that he could join them and not need to hide his face in shame. He strengthened his resolve, clenching his jaw.

_There was no 'that person' for Kurosaki Ichigo. Have fun with Sensei while it lasted. Keep hold of your heart. Don't lose your way again. A normal relationship was not in the cards for Kurosaki Ichigo, but that was not cause for despair, nor even worry. How had he lost his way? He'd become enamored by sex with someone he'd wanted for so long, gotten ahead of himself, started longing for things he had no business longing for. _"See me," he murmured. He stood there, face turned up towards the heavens, breathing deeply, memories flooding him. "I love you all," he repeated, then straightened his shoulders and headed back downstairs.

XXX

The man had longish black hair, was tall and fairly young. He walked out of the hospital stairwell door in the parking garage and quietly walked through the circular glow-spots of the lights that hung from concrete pillars. His trainers made no sound. His destination was the up-ramp at the far end of the garage, where he'd come out onto the street just a block down from the train station.

Although it was daylight, down in the parking garage it was not, of course. They'd done well with the lighting, but still there were areas that were dimly lit. He was walking past one of these and heard the rustle of clothing, the harsh breathing of one or more people, wet sounds that were indescribable but familiar. The man ducked back behind the nearest pillar and waited. Er … either he was about to intrude, or something was going on that _needed_ intruding upon. All he could do in the meantime was wait to see which way the wind blew.

The sounds, the rustling and the breathing, continued. The man poked his head around the pillar and squinted into the dimness behind a very nice car. What kind it was, the man didn't know. He didn't care about stuff like that. What he _could_ see … ahem! Okay, so that's how it was. Two (brave but ignorant!) people, getting it on in the hospital parking garage. Holy shit! The man got back behind the pillar again and put his hand to his mouth, muffling laughter. A soft moan met his ears, and despite his misgivings, he peeked around the corner again.

Wait … as his eyes grew more accustomed to the dimness, he realized he knew these people. The one in front was a nurse from 3C … that little one, he couldn't remember the name. He was bent over the hood of the car, hands planted, eyes closed in ecstasy, his little face shining with pleasure. Behind him, thrusting into that small body … holy fuck. Dr. Byakuya Kuchiki. Fucking one of his nurses, bending him over the hood of a car in the hospital parking lot! Talk about taking a huge risk! And wasn't the doctor _married_? Whoa. The doctor had his lower lip caught in his teeth as he stared downward, presumably looking at the place where he was thrusting his dick in and out of his small partner. Lips clamped tightly shut, the man ducked his head back behind the pillar.

He discretely walked back the way he'd come, carefully making no noise, not wanting to "catch out" the two men in mid-fuck at the other end of the garage. He'd take another way out of the hospital. He was smirking, shaking his head, as he walked back up the stairs to the hospital's main level. It was about 9 a.m., there were trains running every half-hour, so it wouldn't matter if he missed his … he could grab a cup of coffee and wait out the next.

Halfway across the hospital lobby, the man decided to make a visit to his secret friend later in the week. Yeah. It was about time.

XXX

The morning staff meeting had run a bit late, so it was after 9 o'clock when Ichigo finished up with his safety peeps and headed back to the front desk on 3C. The Safety Committee always met right after the staff meeting ended, so he was used to these monthly delays in getting home. Orihime was at the front desk, she looked up and greeted him with a wide smile. "Hello, Ichigo!" she said cheerfully. Ah, amour. Today Orihime wore a jumpsuit-style uniform that displayed her curves in all the right ways.

"Hi, sis," Ichigo said … and in the saying realized it'd been too long since he'd gone home for a visit. He sighed internally but decided to go visit this weekend, even if it was just for his sisters' sakes. "Gonna be a good day?"

"I think so," she said shyly. "Will you go out with us again this weekend? We can go to Seireitei again if you wanna … you know that's where Renji will want to go." Neither were concerned by the ringing of phones, the chirping of computers, the voices of doctors and nurses working around them. This was life as usual in the hospital.

"Let me look at my calendar and I'll get back to you, okay?" Ichigo said, smiling.

"Get back with you about what, precisely?" said a deep smooth voice behind him.

Ichigo turned around to see Dr. Aizen and Hinamori Momo (the respiratory tech) standing behind him. Momo was blushing prettily, her eyes switching from Ichigo to Aizen and back again. "Good morning, Sensei, Momo-san," Ichigo said, smiling diplomatically at the doctor but more genuinely at Momo.

"'Morning, Kurosaki-kun," Aizen returned.

"Yes, good morning, Ichigo-kun," Momo said, smiling back. She really was a very pretty woman … and Ichigo could not understand why Aizen (who was apparently bi-sexual?) could not see that she had been crushing on him for _years_.

"We are talking about perhaps gathering at the Seireitei again this weekend, Doctor," Orihime said sweetly. "Would you like to join us again, sir?"

"I would like that," Aizen said. "Are you going, too, Ichigo-kun?" he asked, his eyes avid on Ichigo's face.

"Er … maybe," Ichigo replied. He cleared his throat and looked at Orihime. "I'll let you know, okay?"

Orihime was looking at Momo, who was slowly moving away, looking embarrassed.

Apparently Aizen-sensei could be counted on to have _some_ manners, because he was the one who recognized the oversight and the resultant embarrassment and jumped in to fix things. "Momo-san," he said, turning his gaze onto the black-haired woman, "why don't you join us this time? I think you'd have a good time there."

She moved back closer again, looking up at Aizen. "I … I would like that very much," she said softly. "Thank you, Aizen-sensei." Adoration practically glowed out of her eyes.

Again Ichigo had to stop himself from snorting. How could the man not _see_ it? He exchanged glances with Orihime and then thought … _maybe this weekend it was time to give Momo a hand_. They smiled at each other. Two birds with one stone: get Aizen off _his_ back, and make Momo happier than she'd been in ages. Score! Ichigo would talk to Renji about it … the guy was criminally good at coming up with plans for stuff like this.

"Ichigo-kun … say you'll come," Orihime said, smiling happily. "Tatsuki will be so glad … and we'll get Rukia to come, too. You know Renji will be there. Please say you'll try?"

"I'll check and let you know tomorrow morning, all right?" Ichigo said, unable to keep from smiling in return.

"Yeh!" Orihime said, and then looked around quickly. She adopted a more 'charge-nursish' look and said, "Very good, Kurosaki-san. Very good." Then she spoiled it all by giggling.

…

At roughly 9:30, Ichigo exited the hospital onto the sidewalk, just in time to see a familiar Ferrari exiting the parking garage. He lifted his hand in greeting and the car slid to a smooth stop alongside him, the passenger window sliding down as it did. Ichigo got a bit of a shock – Luppi was in the passenger seat of Sensei's car, his little face flushed and happy-looking.

"Ichigo-chan!" he squeaked, waving.

Ichigo bent down to look inside the vehicle. Byakuya presented with his usual calm, cool demeanor.

"Kurosaki-kun," he said, his smooth deep voice washing over Ichigo with its usual result. "I'm giving Atenor-kun a lift home. Would you like one as well?"

"Yes, yes, get in, Ichigo! We can make three work, can't we Sensei?" Luppi said, looking back and forth between them. "Come on, get in, Ichi … I'll sit on your lap!" He began unbelting himself, reaching for the door handle.

"No … no, but thanks, Sensei," Ichigo said, holding the door shut. "I have some shopping to do at the station before I catch the train home. But thanks for the offer." He smiled at Byakuya, earning that little twitch of the lips in return.

"Very well," Sensei replied. "Some other time, then. Atenor-san, shall we get you home?"

"Okay," Luppi said. "See you later, Ichigo-chan!" He waved as the window began to go back up.

Ichigo waved and smiled, then watched as the beautiful vehicle pulled out into traffic and moved on down the street. He wondered about Luppi and Sensei for a moment, then shook his head and turned for the station. Seriously? Sensei and Luppi? No way. Sensei was just being nice and giving a co-worker a lift. He started walking down the sidewalk for the station, no longer concerned.

XXX

The next day passed without incident. Ichigo went to work and came back home, his routine uninterrupted. Then on Thursday he was going about his business after getting home, wondering if he was ever going to get to see Sensei again, wondering if their different shifts were at the root of the problem, when there was a knock at his door. Padding bare-footed to the entryway, he peered through the peephole to see Byakuya standing outside. Hurriedly he unlocked it and opened it, smiling. Sensei looked down at him.

"Ichigo-kun," he said. But that was all he managed to get out before Ichigo grabbed him by the tie and pulled him into the apartment.

Now, Byakuya had come there with a purpose. He'd been meeting secretly with Luppi and although he wasn't one to feel guilty about anything, he didn't feel entirely comfortable with the subterfuge. He'd thought that perhaps he would let Ichigo down easy and focus his re-awakening 'gayness' on continued trysts with the small randy Luppi, who was absolutely insatiable! The bouts of secretive love-making he'd had with the little brunette had clouded his vision … the fact that they'd done it in places where they were likely to be seen or caught had added to the sensation … and he'd forgotten that Ichigo Kurosaki had once been the object of his hottest, most secret fantasies.

Today all that would change. Again.

Ichigo pulled Sensei into his apartment, stopping his words with a deep wet kiss. His arms came up and twined around Byakuya's neck, pulling him close, as his tongue slid warmly into Sensei's mouth. He moaned throatily, pressing himself tightly against the taller man, sliding his fingers into that long silken hair, ravaging his mouth.

Byakuya was overwhelmed. Sexual memory flooded his body, fantasies re-awakened in his mind, and his arms clamped like steel bands around the oranget's muscular body. His cock roared to full wakefulness in his pants, throbbing, making him groan with excited anticipation. _Oh gods yes_, he thought. _This is _pure_ …_ _what have I been doing_?! With this last thought, Luppi vanished from his mind.

"Sensei …" Ichigo murmured as he pulled back slightly, exerting pressure on Byakuya's head to bring his lips in contact with Ichigo's neck. "I want you," he growled, giving a little thrust with his hips to drive the message home _clearly_. Byakuya did not disappoint, licking and kissing the column of Ichigo's throat, sucking his adam's apple, nibbling at his pulse points. "I – I've missed you," Ichigo groaned, his fingers busy at Sensei's shirt buttons.

"Yess," Byakuya hissed, leaning back and staring hotly down at flushed freckled cheeks, dilated pupils in warm amber eyes, shining lips. He grabbed hold of Ichigo's t-shirt and pulled it off over his head in one smooth movement, staring down at the naked chest and belly revealed by its absence. He began backing Ichigo into the kitchen area, kissing him and running his hands over that muscular back.

Ichigo went along with it, feeling the heat building in his pelvis as his dick pulsated and twitched in his boxer briefs. He gasped when Byakuya picked him up under the arms and lifted him onto the kitchen counter, and opened his eyes to watch when Sensei began tracing his hardness through the briefs.

"Mm … look here, Ichigo-kun," Byakuya said, his deep voice caressing Ichigo's ears. Sensei traced a finger over the large wet spot visible in Ichigo's briefs. "You are already so wet here," he continued as he pressed forward between Ichigo's legs.

Only able to gasp in reply, Ichigo finished unbuttoning Sensei's shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, revealing that perfect pale chest. Beautiful. He couldn't get over it, how gorgeous Byakuya's body was. He began unbuckling the older man's belt, then undid the button and let the pants slide down off slender hips. "You … you have a wet spot of your own, Sensei," Ichigo panted, rubbing the brunet's cock through damp underwear.

His voice was cut off as hot lips kissed a trail down his chest and began sucking and licking his right nipple, which hardened instantly under the onslaught. "Mmm," Byakuya moaned as he sucked that nipple into his mouth. Amber-pink and hard as a little pebble, they were slightly larger than the average man's, but Byakuya considered that a plus. The more to suckle, the more to bite. He kissed his way to the other nipple and licked it hard, then sucked on it with obvious pleasure.

Ichigo was terminally turned-on. He watched Byakuya suckling him and felt the pleasure shoot straight from his nipples to his dick, like an electric shock. Sensei kicked the pants off his ankles and stood up straight again, pushing forward against the counter, pulling Ichigo to the edge, then starting a sensuous movement with his hips that slid his cock alongside Ichigo's, slowly, as he pulled Ichigo's head down for a searing kiss.

"S-Sensei," Ichigo moaned, "I'm … already … if you keep doing that …" he gasped against the other man's lips. His cock was throbbing, leaking pre-seminal fluid, the head purple and flared, hard as a rock.

"Not so fast, chibi," Byakuya said in his soft deep voice. Ichigo's belly muscles contracted in pleasurable spasms as the older man began kissing his way south.

"Ah god … no, Sensei," Ichigo groaned, fist to his mouth. "I – I'll … I'm going to come if you … ah!" His hips jerked when that hot wet mouth closed over the head of his cock, tongue slathering all over it, sucking lustily, humming! Oh, god, humming low in his throat, making his tissues thrum like a tuning fork. "Ah! Sensei! Nn nn!" Ichigo was holding Byakuya's head with both hands, caught between wanting to push him away and wanting to pull him closer. But when Sensei began caressing Ichigo's balls, that was _it_. "Ah! C-coming! Nn! Sensei!" and he popped off in Byakuya's mouth, his cum spurting out and being sucked up immediately, swallowed, that hot tongue licking it all up, the pleasure was so intense that Ichigo felt faint.

Of course Ichigo had no way of knowing that Byakuya hadn't been going without all this week. It never crossed his mind that there might be someone else fucking Sensei. And it certainly never crossed his mind _now_. He was in sexual heaven, kissing the man who'd just sucked him off, tasting himself, ready to move on to some serious fucking. Love-making. His hole twitched just from him thinking about it.

Byakuya was also in heaven. That beautiful body, that gorgeous orange pubic hair (he didn't think he would ever get tired of seeing it!), that sexually-charged gaze … ah, Ichigo-kun. He was going to fuck him _good_. A muscular, fit man like Ichigo could take whatever Byakuya could dish out, and he was ready to dish.

"Put your legs around me, Ichigo-kun," Byakuya murmured, leaning in against the younger man, keeping his hips at the edge of the counter, pressing his hard cock up against Ichigo's scrotum. Ichigo was gasping for breath, his cheeks blushing from his orgasm … but he did as he was told and lifted his legs and wrapped them around Sensei's waist. Fingers at his entrance, wet and slick. One slid in, teasing, rubbing, coaxing softness out of that twitching ring of muscle. Ichigo leaned back until his head and shoulders hit the cabinets behind him. He opened his eyes and looked, his breath catching at the sight. Byakuya Kuchiki, naked, cock hard and jutting out from his hips, his head down as he watched his finger working Ichigo's ass. His long jet-black hair fell forward to partially hide his face. Beautiful. He was so beautiful!

"Sensei," Ichigo murmured, and was rewarded by the lifting of Byakuya's head, those gorgeous silver-grey eyes locked onto his, a pink tongue came out and licked that full lower lip. "Ah, sensei … nn … please …."

"Please?" Byakuya repeated, inserting another finger into Ichigo, stroking them smoothly in and out, preparing Ichigo but not touching his prostate gland. Not yet.

"Ah! I – I'm ready … please!"

"Please what, Kurosaki-kun? If you do not say it, how will I know?" Sensei's eyes were half-hooded, his fingers never stopped stroking, stroking … as his other hand tickled its way across Ichigo's belly to his re-awakened dick.

"Please! Nn! I want yours … inside me …" Ichigo gasped. He was shaking with need, again! Already! But such was the power of Byakuya Kuchiki – at least as far as Ichigo was concerned. He couldn't take his eyes off that long elegant cock … he reached down with one hand and scooped up a trickle of pre-cum, licking it off his finger as his eyes rolled back in his head. So good. "Nn … fuck me, Sensei."

"Yess," Byakuya hissed, and lined up the head of his pulsating member with Ichigo's softened entrance. With a push, he was past the sphincter and inside … hot, soft, holding his cock tightly, Byakuya moaned as he pushed forward until he was buried in that tight wet heat.

"Ah!" Ichigo shouted as Sensei grabbed hold of his ankles and held his legs straight out and up, in a V. Reading Byakuya's intent, he grabbed onto the edge of the counter and gave two little pulsing squeezes with his rectum. Sensei shook and gasped, then pulled his cock almost all the way out, only to plunge it back in with one smooth motion.

From then on, it was nothing but pleasure. Byakuya's hips rolled as he started up a slow rhythm, all the way out, all the way in, watching between their legs as his cock appeared and disappeared from Ichigo's ass. His breath gasped between his lips as he exerted the control necessary to keep from popping off too soon … he wanted to fuck Ichigo for a _while_ before he let it go. Gods, it felt _so good_.

Ichigo just hung on and let the sensations overtake him. "Ah! Ah, Sensei …" he moaned, watching the play of muscles as the other man fucked him. Beautiful! There was no other word, not for the sensations, nor for the view. His rectum tightened involuntarily and Byakuya moaned in response, grinding against Ichigo's ass, his hands clutching the oranget's ankles, keeping his legs spread wide.

He sped up, he couldn't help it. Going slow was tortuous now, he couldn't keep it up like that, he had to go faster, the pleasure-seeker in him had him thrusting in harder and faster now. The look on Ichigo's face made Byakuya catch fire inside, his hips began to snap in and out of the younger male, he bent his knees slightly and felt the head of his cock scrape and bump along Ichigo's prostate gland.

"Ah! There! No! No! Ah, Sensei!" Ichigo felt the pleasure amp up inside, exploding in him with every hit to the sensitive gland. It streaked outward with each strike, flooding his body, forcing him towards another orgasm. "Nn! Ah Ah!"

"Kurosaki … you feel so good … feel me. Feel me _more_," Byakuya groaned, leaning forward to slide his tongue into Ichigo's mouth as he fucked that sweet ass. He dropped Ichigo's ankles onto his shoulders and grabbed the younger man's buttocks, pulling them apart so he could go even deeper. They both groaned in reaction, pleasure-soaked moans that made them open their eyes and stare at each other.

His gaze caught and held by Sensei's, Ichigo let go of the counter edge and leaned forward, cupping Byakuya's face in his hands, and began soul kissing him with all his might. "Please," he said between kisses. "Please, Sensei, I love it. More … deeper … please Sensei!"

"Gods!" Byakuya grunted, and then he was plowing the road. He was mindless, his entire being was focused on getting his cock deeper into that hot wet heat, the moans and cries coming from the enticing being in front of him, the pleasure that came from hearing, feeling, seeing. His cock felt _huge_, looking down he saw its veined slick girth sliding in and out of Ichigo and he grunted with pleasure, each stroke bringing out guttural exclamations, wordless, it was so. Fucking. Good!

"Yes!" Ichigo was near-to-mindless himself, feeling the build-up again, knowing that he was going to pop off soon, the intensity was almost painful as each stroke of Sensei's impossibly-thick cock struck his prostate again and again. "Sen … ah! Nn!" He put his hands on the counter and lifted his body up … moving his hips in time with Byakuya's, feeling those strong hands clench tighter onto his buttocks, pulling him into position and snapping his hips forward, out again, snap! Wet slapping sounds, gasping breathing, moans ….

"Ah … coming … Kurosaki … coming …" Byakuya squeezed Ichigo's buttocks in his hands, clenching them tight, spreading them, burying himself deep inside, grinding against that tight entrance.

"Yes! Ahh Byakuya!" Ichigo, helplessly drawn along by the sounds, the sensations, the painful clutch of those fingers on his ass cheeks, pain translated into pleasure … oh, god so good, so fucking good. "Ahh!" He came only two seconds behind Byakuya, both of them shaking and groaning as pleasure wrung them out, Ichigo's cum spurting weakly onto his belly – not that much this time, but the sensation was painfully exquisite. Byakuya burying his dick as deep as he could, groaning, spilling his hot seed inside Ichigo, filling him up. They stayed connected as it played out, gasping, shaking against each other, clutching with desperate hands, then kissing, kissing as it wound down, slowly melting into blissful afterglow, each nerve ending alive and pulsing with the memory of pleasure so recently attained.

"Mm," Ichigo moaned against Byakuya's lips, feeling the semi-soft cock slide out of his ass.

"Yes," Byakuya grated out, voice rough, as he pressed forward against Ichigo to keep him from falling forward off the counter. Ichigo's legs were now dangling freely, his head was on Byakuya's shoulder, his arms were weakly around Sensei's waist. Byakuya kissed the back of Ichigo's head, clutched him closer, murmured, "Kurosaki-kun," sexily in his ear.

Goose bumps raced up Ichigo's spine, making him shudder lightly. Byakuya chuckled darkly. Ichigo gasped out a little laugh, too. He turned his head to face Sensei and they kissed again, sweetly, with none of the urgent passion from a moment ago. Byakuya's hand petted Ichigo's hair, his other hand laced fingers with Ichigo's. They leaned against each other, holding on tightly to each other and to the moment. It was good.

XXX

Sensei was leaving. It was almost noon now, and he had office hours starting at one. Neither had slept. After the strength had returned to their bodies, they'd left the kitchen and taken a shower together. That had proven too much for Byakuya and Ichigo had sucked him off in the hot spray, his talented tongue working over the older man's cock, leaving him hanging onto Ichigo's hair with both hands as he shouted with pleasure when his cum was sucked out by the gifted oranget.

Then they'd had coffee and shared the paper, talking about nonsensical things, not work-related, not relationship-related. Just stupid things. Sports. Current events. The new convenience store going in just downriver from Ichigo's apartment. It was nice. It was good. No pressure, nothing between them like doctor/nurse issues. It had been nice.

So at the door, Byakuya was pushing Ichigo up against the wall next to his door, kissing him, rubbing a hand over his crotch, cementing his sexual presence onto the oranget_. Think about me today_, his actions said. _If you fantasize, make it about me. Need me more_. His actions were overt and rough, holding Ichigo still by his shirt, forcing himself on the younger man.

Not that Ichigo was unwilling! Oh hell no! He liked this side of Sensei, too, the "I'll take what I want" side, the Dom-ish side … and he was whimpering with pleasured need as it continued.

Neither noticed a tall hooded man step up into the doorway and look inside.

They certainly _did_ notice it when a big boot kicked out and slammed into Byakuya's side, knocking him away from Ichigo and hurling him onto the floor. "You mother-fucker!" Shuuhei shouted, his livid face partially visible inside his hood. "What are _you_ doing here?! What the hell do you think you're doing to Ichigo!"

"Shuu!" Ichigo gasped, looking from the incensed face of his beloved to Byakuya. The older man was on the ground, looking upward, totally confused and taken aback by the fury Shuuhei was displaying. Ichigo took a step towards Shuuhei, put a hand on his shoulder. "Shuu, what are you doing, man? Settle down!"

"Fuck, no, Ichigo!" Shuu yelled, pushing his hood back from his face. The tattoos were totally evident now, and they made Shuuhei look incredibly fierce as they twisted with his frowning snarls. "This cocksucker ... what's he doin' here? Who is he to you, man?" He made a threatening gesture to Byakuya when the older man stood up, brushing off his sleeves, frowning.

"He … don't you recognize hi—" Ichigo tried to explain.

"Yeah, I fucking recognize him! Saw you just recently, didn't I, _fucker_?" Shuu was furious, absolutely furious.

"What?" Byakuya stood stock-still.

"Uh, what?" Ichigo looked from one to the other, not sure what was going on here.

"Saw you, prick," Shuu said, his fury twisting his lips. "Saw you fucking that little black-haired nurse in the hospital parking garage, didn't I, shit-heel!" He advanced on Byakuya, fists up threateningly.

"Wh-what?" Ichigo said, quietly, blood draining from his face.

"Ichigo," Byakuya said quietly, both hands up in a calming gesture. "I can explain."

"Yeah, well, do it some other time, mother-fucker. I'm here to see Ichigo, and I matter more than YOU, fucking prick!"

When Shuu was right, he was really right. Ichigo, stony-faced, ushered Byakuya out of his apartment, not paying any attention to anything the doctor said. "We'll talk later," was all Ichigo said, then he shut and locked the door behind him, and turned to his beloved.

Who had calmed down considerably, and was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking at Ichigo. "Ichigo? I – I'm sorry?" He tried to pull his hood up, but Ichigo was having none of that.

"Shuu," he said, and a sad smile crept across his face as he pushed the hood back and placed a hand on Shuuhei's tattooed cheek. "Don't hide your sweet face from me. It's good to see you, as always. Come inside, we'll have coffee." He put an arm around Shuuhei's slumped shoulders (slumped with _relief_), and led him to the kitchen.

XXX

**End Chapter 11**

**Uh-oh … Byakuya, that's karma for ya! XD**

**Thanks for reading! More soon!**

**Ahvienda**


	12. Chapter 12 Interlude

**Chapter 12 – Interlude**

**Warnings: Bad, bad language; adult situations**

**Disclaimer: I /still/ don't own anything Bleach! Wtf!?**

**Please pardon the loooong time between updates. Moving is such a pain!**

They sat side-by-side on the couch, shoulders touching, coffee mugs in their hands. It was very quiet in Ichigo's apartment – only the hum of the refrigerator broke the silence. The blacked-out glass everywhere meant that the apartment was dimly lit by the small, low wattage lamps that Ichigo had placed here and there. These two things – the silence and the relative darkness – gave the apartment a calm, reflective atmosphere, like you'd expect in a temple.

But to Shuuhei, it felt as though his heart was going to pound out of his chest. The excitement from the almost-fight with Sensei, the adrenaline that had shot through his system when he looked inside and saw that bastard pushing Ichigo against the wall … most of it had dispersed, but he was still feeling the after-effects. He kept all this to himself, though. Now was not the time. Definitely not.

Ichigo had one hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shuu glanced at him worriedly. Hard to tell in this light, but Shuuhei thought Ichigo looked pale. "Ichigo," he began quietly, "Listen, I—"

"No, don't worry, Shuu," Ichigo interrupted. "You said you were sorry, although I certainly don't think you're to blame for _any_thing. I, uh … well …" he raked his fingers through his spiky hair, "… I just don't know how to process this information yet. That's all." He rested his hand on Shuu's thigh, gave his leg a couple pats.

Shuuhei could feel the heat of it, through his jeans. He was filled with uncertainty, but one thing he did know was that his friend needed him. _Ichigo_ needed _Shuu_. The knowledge expanded, filling him with a sense of warmth. He put an arm around Ichigo and pulled him in closer, patting his head into place in the crook between Shuu's shoulder and neck. Ichigo settled there with the ghost of a sigh. His body relaxed somewhat, he drew in a deep breath.

They sat like that for a moment, Shuu's hand patting rather awkwardly at Ichigo's head, in silence. When he did speak, Shuuhei unconsciously used a low, comforting tone. He didn't realize that it was the same voice Ichigo routinely used with his comatose patients. "Ichigo … I'm so sorry. If I'd known, I would have handled things differently. I definitely never meant to cause you to hurt."

Ichigo was quiet for a few seconds, then he said, "It's … it's not quite pain," he admitted softly. "It's more like … I don't know … like it's only what I deserve. I should have known better. A man like Sensei … he's too high above me. I should have known that—"

Shuuhei had stiffened as Ichigo spoke. "No! No, don't you dare say things like that, Ichigo-san! You are … you're the best man I've ever met! Ever! No-one is above you. No-one should treat you like you're d-disposable, no-one should hurt you like that." He wanted to launch into a scathing catalogue of _Sensei_'s bad points, but he sensed that would not be helpful.

Ichigo sat up a bit, although he was still leaning against Shuu. "It's my own fault, Shuuhei – no, now, listen to me, okay? I … strayed from my path. I think maybe Sensei was the karmic equivalent of a smack to the back of the head." He rubbed his forehead with one hand, frowning. _It was only what I deserved_, Ichigo thought. "Forgive me," he muttered, unaware for a second that he said it out loud.

"What?" Shuu said, astonished.

Ichigo jerked in reaction. "No no," he said, trying to smile, trying to back-pedal, "… sorry, I didn't mean— I meant forgive me for involving you in something so sordid. What a way to start out a visit, right? How is your coffee, do you need a warm-up?" He got up quickly, snaring both their coffee cups and heading for the kitchen area.

Shuuhei followed him. "Sordid, huh?" He leaned against the counter as Ichigo began pouring more coffee into their mugs. The scars made his face distort slightly as he gave a small, wry smile. "Are you and Kuchiki-sensei in a relationship?"

After a few seconds silence, Ichigo said, "It seemed so. The beginning of one, perhaps." He doctored up the coffee with practiced movements. He was glad to see that his hands weren't shaking.

Shuu nodded and picked up his cup when Ichigo scooted it towards him on the counter. He sipped it thoughtfully. "He's not good enough for you," he said, heatedly, after swallowing the delicious coffee. "I don't care what his excuse was going to be … there's _no_ excuse for treating you like shit."

Ichigo was feeling more in control of himself now, the familiar motions of making coffee had had a sort-of calming effect on him. "Well … you can't really say that I'm the most faithful of lovers, right?" he asked, coming closer and putting a hand to Shuuhei's tattooed cheek. He patted it and smiled.

It was sad, Shuu thought, to see his friend smiling through his pain. But he smiled back. "You're not like everybody else," he said. There was a short pause while Shuuhei obviously thought out what he was going to say next. "Listen … I don't know everything about your life, Ichigo. I don't know if you've got guys lined up waitin' for ya. To me, that shit doesn't matter. The big thing is: I'm _definitely_ sure that you didn't deserve _that_." Finally he couldn't hold back any more. "He's a fuckin' prick. A low-life asshole. I don't care what his position is _in society_, he's a reeking pile of bat sh—"

"Whoa!" Ichigo said, one hand up in a 'stop right there' motion. "I have to be honest about it. He's a respected physician, the head of the Kuchiki house, and a valued member of society." _Not to mention criminally beautiful_, he thought, but wisely kept that to himself. "Like I said – we had only gone out a couple of times, so he was not _mine_. Understand, Shuu?"

"Still." Shuuhei was not backing down from his assessment of the situation. "Who knew he was a slut?" He shook his head bemusedly and took another sip of coffee.

Ichigo followed his example, and the two men drank coffee in silence for a moment or two. Explaining to himself as well as to Shuu, Ichigo said, "He's only recently divorced his wife, and is … coming back into his own as a gay man. I think he's … kinda jumping head-first into the deep end, instead of taking the time to test the water. Know what I mean?"

"Maybe," Shuuhei said. He wasn't the world's most experienced guy, as far as romance went. "But I don't care about any of that. He still shouldn't treat you that way, fuckin' other guys when he's supposed to be startin' up a relationship with you. That's just shitty, man. I won't forgive that." His frown made his face look fierce.

Silence fell again.

Then Shuu said, "Are _you_ going to forgive him? I guess that's the biggest question." He looked at Ichigo over the rim of his mug as he took another drink of coffee.

Ichigo shrugged. "I'll listen to his … explanation," he murmured. "That's all I can say right now."

"I got it," Shuuhei said. He put his coffee mug on the counter, then grabbed hold of Ichigo and pulled him into a tight quick bro hug. "Whatever you decide, remember I'm your friend and if you need anything …." His words trailed off.

"Thanks, Shuu."

Although Shuuhei had come to Ichigo's apartment thinking maybe he could get some of that bitchin' fellatio, he couldn't bring himself to even think about it now. Was Ichigo feeling weird, like he should be yanking Shuu's pants down? Shuuhei didn't want to put that kind of pressure on the other man. "Hey … I gotta get goin'. Anything ya need before I go?" He smiled.

"No. No, I'm good, Shuu. Thanks." Ichigo smiled back, his face looking much more normal now.

"Okay. You've got my cell number. Message me if you _do_ need anything. K?"

"I got it. See you later, yeah?"

"Yeah. And thanks for the coffee. _Strength and honor_, man," Shuu said, quoting from one of his favorite movies. He lightly rapped his fist against Ichigo's shoulder and quietly left the apartment.

XXX

Byakuya Kuchiki, after being shown the door and gently pushed out of it, leaned against the wall of the corridor outside Ichigo's apartment and straightened his tie. He ran a hand through his hair, then straightened the knot of his tie again and shot his cuffs. He'd recognized Hisagi Shuuhei, of course, how could he not? He was a former patient, he'd been on 3C … and those facial tattoos covered what Byakuya knew were some deep scars the man had received from the car accident that had been the root cause of his coma.

Well … he couldn't stand around out here, waiting for … what? Straightening up, he walked unhurriedly down the hallway and rode the elevator down to the underground parking garage. He walked over to his car, it chirped as he hit the unlock button, he opened the door and slid inside, he shut the door and put his hands on the steering wheel, clutching it as he stared straight ahead at nothing.

Son of a bitch. Now what.

His self-discipline had slipped. He'd lost sight of himself when re-discovering the joys of male-on-male sex. And he did mean "joy". After all those years of forcing himself to have sexual relations with his wife, during which he rigidly held his deepest desires in check, when he wouldn't even allow himself to _look_ too long at a tempting man – now that he was able to let those desires out, he'd lost his way. And look at the mess he'd made as a result.

_You don't get your honey where you make your money._

_Don't dip your nib into the office ink._

He knew all the sayings that related to starting up a relationship with the people one worked with. But in the medical profession it was different. Outsiders didn't understand that being a doctor or nurse wasn't the same as being a secretary or a lawyer, there was a level of commitment that went beyond "this is where I earn my living". Other people didn't _truly_ understand being on Call several days a week … they didn't understand the stressors … they couldn't understand that it wasn't a mere _job_. Priests could understand, because it was very similar: the selfless giving of one's time and skills to better others' lives. With priests it was the soul. With the medical profession it was the body, and a lot of the time – the mind, too.

From his perspective, very rarely did relationships between medical professionals and 'civilians' work out. At least, not for long. People got tired of having their kids' birthday parties disrupted by that dreaded phone call. They got tired of their mate getting up and leaving in the middle of the night. They began to feel as if they were '2nd' or '3rd' down the list of importance, and that knowledge began to grate at them, little by little. They couldn't understand the intense relationships that developed between members of a medical team, that brand of intimacy that came as a result of sharing the emotional ups and downs of caring for the sick and injured. The quiet euphoria when you brought someone back from death's door. The thrill when you recognized a sick person's symptoms and _knew_ you were on the right track, the track to a cure. The tears and laughter when a person in a coma woke up.

He shook his head. _I digress_.

To Byakuya, it was a rare person who could step into that world and successfully navigate a relationship. The divorce rate among medical/non-medical unions was far above the norm. It seemed to him that only a person who was a part of this world could truly understand this world.

He didn't know how long he sat there, thinking, before he touched the starter button and the Ferrari came to life with a growl. He carefully drove around the garage's interior until he came to the street exit. Upon pulling out into the daylight, he looked to his left to check traffic and saw Hisagi Shuuhei staring at him from the sidewalk. The man raised his right arm and flipped Byakuya off, then he spat into the gutter and turned his back, sauntering off toward the train station.

Byakuya frowned. He pulled out into traffic and turned in the opposite direction, heading toward his office. He'd give Ichigo a call later on, after he suspected the oranget might be awake. They needed to talk. Whether Ichigo was going to tell him to fuck off or not, they needed to find some middle ground. Because they had to work with each other, come what may. _Don't get your honey where you make your money_ – but if you're in the medical profession, dodge the bees and do it anyway, otherwise it probably won't work. It was an interesting paradox.

He pulled into the parking lot and shut off the purring engine, then sat there, thinking. He didn't clutch at the steering wheel or give any other sign of distress – he just sat motionless, stony-faced. Perhaps a muscle in his cheek twitched once or twice. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes were fixed sightlessly on the façade of his office building.

What exactly did he want? He'd thought it was so clear before: start a relationship with a man whose interest in Byakuya had been made _perfectly_ clear, and see where things went from there. Ichigo was a sort-of "pliant" person, so Byakuya had been able to rest assured that the oranget wouldn't cause him any problems with his family or his business. At least, he'd thought he was pliant. This morning … he'd been stoic and unshakeable as he'd ushered Byakuya out of his apartment.

Got off track. Again: what did he want? Ichigo? Luppi? Or freeze them both out of his personal life and find someone completely new. He compared the two for a moment: Luppi, externally the picture of the uke – small, delicate, slender. If he'd just keep his mouth shut he'd be perfect. Ichigo, gorgeous, tall and muscular enough to be seme, but definitely uke on the inside. What to do?

Grey eyes flicked to the left to take a quick look at the digital clock. He needed to get inside, look over today's patient charts. He'd have to consider this issue later. He unbelted, climbed out, straightened his tie and shot his cuffs again. _The doctor is __**in**_.

XXX

The door closed behind Shuuhei. Ichigo shot the lock, then turned around and went into the kitchen. He stood there for a few seconds, kinda staring at nothing, then he noted the coffee cups on the counter. He busied himself with rinsing out their mugs and placing them upside down in the sink. He turned off the coffee maker and tossed out the leftover, rinsing out the decanter and placing it back onto the machine's hot plate. His movements were slow and deliberate, his brow was furrowed in thought, the muscles in his jaw bunched and twitched.

What did it mean to be "faithful"? Ichigo considered himself to be a very faithful person, even though by others' standards that wouldn't necessarily hold true. Anyone looking at Ichigo from the outside would think that he was a slut-and-a-half: pleasuring and being pleasured by numerous men – weekly, lately! – but that wasn't the whole story. Sure, from outside it looked bad. If you didn't know the _whole story_, yes, it might look like he was a total cumslut. But that was _certainly_ not how Ichigo thought of himself, and he didn't think his beloveds saw it that way, either. He loved each and every one of them. In order to honor that love, to demonstrate it, so that his beloveds _knew_ he loved them without reservation – yes, he would do anything. He would withhold nothing of himself. He couldn't.

So whatever happened when he spoke with Sensei again, he'd have to keep that in mind. It wasn't fair to expect Sensei (or anyone else, for that matter … blue hair and eyes filled his internal landscape for a second or two) to "be faithful" when Ichigo would not hold himself to the same strict standards. If being faithful meant never letting anyone else touch you, ever? Then Kurosaki Ichigo was the most unfaithful piece of shit around. But if it meant giving all of yourself to the people you loved, never forgetting that love and honoring it daily, and making it a priority to care for the physical and emotional needs of your loved ones, then Ichigo would hold his head up without shame.

So. He would let Sensei off the hook, give him over graciously to Luppi and not make a fuss, not hinder their good working relationships. It wasn't that Ichigo couldn't take the thought of sharing Byakuya with Luppi … wait. Wait. Ichigo rubbed his eyes with one hand. Then what was it? If Ichigo could have multiple partners and not feel the slightest guilt about it, then was he actually being two-faced enough to think that Byakuya couldn't do the same? He thought about it.

The conclusion he came to was slightly surprising even to himself. Ichigo realized that he really and truly _had_ stepped off his path. The only reason people begin to feel jealousy is that there are feelings involved. Feelings of caring, feelings of ownership, feelings of love – whatever! It all amounted to the same thing. Possessiveness. And the problem with that was this: Ichigo didn't really even belong to _himself_ … so how could he give himself to another? How could he think to possess another?

It wasn't the physical side of things that was the root of the betrayal, it was the emotional. His feelings of anger and jealousy toward Sensei and Luppi, these feelings were because he had begun to _feel something_ for the tall doctor. This was unacceptable. Totally unacceptable. Look how uncomfortable Shuuhei had felt today. That one of his beloveds had SEEN him in an act of betrayal … his stomach twisted with anguish. But Shuu – sweet, amazing Shuu – had been gracious and forgiving. He'd comforted Ichigo.

It was supposed to be the other way around.

Ichigo leaned over and pressed his forehead to the countertop, closing his eyes. No outsider was worth betraying his beloveds. He'd go back to the temple today, commune with the dead and put his feet firmly back on the path. He would talk with Sensei and tell him that he'd prefer it if their relationship could go back to a strictly professional one, no harm no foul. He would not go to Seireitei tonight, he'd go visit his family this weekend and, upon his return, go back to the temple again.

Ichigo straightened up, rubbed his forehead, and blew out a breath. Mind made up, he started another pot of coffee. He'd forgo sleep today, get cleaned up and go straight to the temple. It was Friday, he didn't have to report back for work until Sunday night. He grabbed his phone as he was heading down the hallway to his bedroom. "Hey, Orihime, this is Ichigo. Sorry I couldn't catch you, but I figure you should get this message in plenty of time. Listen, thanks for inviting me, but I won't be able to make it to the club tonight. Something has come up. Maybe next time, okay? Tell everybody I said hey. See you Monday." He tossed the phone onto the bed where it bounced once as he turned for his closet. He pulled out a black suit and tie, added a pale pink shirt, and began to get dressed. It wouldn't take very long to get to the Karakura area's largest temple, but he wanted to get there right away. He shaved, made a cup of instant coffee, and then dressed. He had another cup while paging through his scrapbook, carefully turning the pages, allowing memories to wash over him like waves, their gentle pressure carving peace into his soul. When he turned past Ulqui's page, he closed it carefully and hugged it to his stomach. _Forgive me_.

On the phone again as he slipped into his shoes … "Sensei, this is Kurosaki. Please advise if you will be able to meet with me after your rounds this evening. I would like to speak with you. Thank you." He snapped the phone shut, slid it into his pocket, and opened the door.

XXX

Renji listened as Orihime relayed Ichigo's message. (She'd called Renji as soon as she'd hung up from checking her messages.) Lips curling wryly, he said, "Something came up, huh? You know what that means, right O?"

"He's going to be spending the day on his knees, isn't he," she said, sadness creeping into her voice.

"Yeah. And not in a good way," Renji said, imagining Orihime's blush as he gave a naughty little chuckle. But then he became serious again quickly. "It's not the anniversary of his mom's death, though … something else musta happened." He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"Ichigo-kun is a very spiritual person," Orihime said as she reached for a ringing telephone. "Sometimes, he just goes, Renji. Just a sec. Coma Care Center, Orihime Inoue speaking, how may I help you?"

Renji stared into space as Orihime handled the call. Something had been going on with Ichigo lately, though, Orihime's words notwithstanding. Yeah, yeah, Ichigo was more spiritual than your average 20-something single male, but still – Renji's spidey senses were tingling. There was somethin' goin' on with his friend, and he was gonna find out what it was, so that if he could do anything for his buddy, he would.

"Okay, I'm back," Orihime said into his ear.

"You think he'll go to Mickey Kitty like usual?" Renji asked, without preamble. "Think I'm gonna go check on him before I gotta come into work. But one way or another we'll still go to Seireitei after I get off, okay, O?"

"The name of the temple is _Mikaita_, Renji," Orihime said, giggling. "But I'm glad you're going. I'll feel better if you check on him."

"No problem. See ya when I come in for my shift, k? Have a good one."

"You, too. Bye, Renji." Orihime hung up the phone thoughtfully. She sighed. Poor Ichigo. He carried so many worries and memories – she was thinking about his mother's death – and sometimes they overwhelmed him. He was so good at putting on the semblance of strength, though. At times like this she thought his … moods had gotten worse since he'd come over to 3C. But perhaps it just seemed that way. Maybe they were just all getting older.

"Nurse? Would you please tell me where the cafeteria is?" A pleasant-looking older lady was looking at Orihime over the counter.

"Yes, of course! Come, I'll show you the way."

XXX

Orihime didn't know that another pair of ears had been listening in on her end of the conversation. Whatever it was that was going on with Ichigo, it had now gotten so 'bad' that his friends were picking up on it. Grimmjow frowned, sucking his teeth briefly as he thought it over. He made a snap decision and then moved on it. Walking back into the room where Chad was watching over the patients in Room 13, Grimmjow grabbed his stuff from the cupboard and scuffed into his Van's. "I'm goin' out for a while. Be back later," he told the nurse. Chad nodded in reply as Grimm strode out the door.

XXX

When Ichigo stepped off the train at the station nearest the Mikaita Temple, he immediately felt more at ease. Even this far from the temple proper (it was still almost a kilometer away) he could feel the serene aura that permeated the place. Looking forward to seeing it again, to being there, he hurried away from the station and toward the edge of Karakura.

Mikaita Temple was outside of town, obviously, and included not only the temple itself, but housing for the monks, and a dojo where martial arts were taught. It even had a segment devoted to the tea ceremony, with its rich traditions that had been handed down through generations. Ichigo appreciated all these things, all this evidence that there were many things that lasted 'forever'. He reached the end of the paved city sidewalks and stopped for a second at the torii, looking up at it and admiring its clean lines and sturdy presence. Then he stepped through, onto the paving stones that were swept morning and night by the monks.

As he continued, the tree-lined route narrowed considerably. No-one else was visible at the moment, although part of that could be because the pathway twisted and turned on its way to the temple. Much like a person's life did … although the head monk had told Ichigo that avoidance of line-of-sight roads was a tactical consideration from the old days of warring monks: you never offered an enemy a straight path to your door. His pace slowed as he walked, as he felt the peace of the place beginning to sink into him. The cool shadows, the flowers, the coo of doves in the trees. It was like the temple was removing bricks from his shoulders one by one. He loved coming here.

When the temple finally came into view, Ichigo stopped to admire it like he always did. Three hundred years old, it seemed to grow out of the woods that surrounded it. The head monk had told Ichigo that, in the past, the woods would never have been allowed to grow so close to the temple itself … but the war-like days were over, and the trees were tended with loving care. Cherry trees, paulownias, magnolias, red maples, poplars … a grove of white and red pines … you could walk from grove to grove, enjoying the gardens, the pools of water lilies and koi, the little fountains – of stone or bamboo. Benches were interspersed here and there, small shrines dotted the landscape, sand-gardens that were sculpted with loving hands … it was the perfect spot for meditation, contemplation, and prayer.

Ichigo headed for the main temple and entered silently through the open doors. Inside it was dimly-lit, cool, and quiet. He bowed to the attendants and quietly put a rather largish amount of yen into the donation box. Then he bowed again and walked back out. This was his habit … he'd make an appearance so the monks knew he was there, make his donation, and then head out to walk. The place for him to stop and think would present itself. If it didn't, then he would come back to the main temple and sit in the large garden, with its large pond, complete with beautiful lilies and, usually, several herons, walking sedately along the edges of the pond.

He made a right turn after leaving the temple's portico, following the stone path. The birds cooed, sung, and chattered in the trees over his head. A peacock slowly made its way along the edge of the pathway. When he approached it cocked its head to fix him with a beady eye, but it didn't startle. It was used to human visitors here. Ichigo walked past numerous benches, fountains, and small gardens – especially the one with the delicately-carved crane fountain. That was where he had gone in the days after Hayato's funeral. The monks had found him there, unconscious, slumped over on his knees in front of the small shrine.

So not there. Ichigo kept walking, the path taking its winding way around behind the temple proper. He was standing still for a moment, his head cocked slightly to the left to listen to an unfamiliar birdsong, when he happened to notice an almost-grown-over pathway that struck out away from the temple, through the woods. He pushed through the bushes for roughly 15 fifteen, his feet finding the partially-overgrown step stones by touch, and then came out on the other side to see the path continuing on in front of him through the deepening gloom provided by close-growing pines.

He followed the trail for about five minutes, he guessed, when it curved around the roots of a tall pine and widened. A bench, stylistically carved from what looked like a single piece of driftwood, seemed to grow up out of a smallish cobbled patio. Nearly hidden under the boughs of the large pine, a small shrine glimmered, its black lacquer surfaces shining with a deep gleam. Inside it, an incense burner, and small strike-bell, and an empty picture frame. A cone of incense stood on the burner.

Ichigo lit it. Immediately the scent wafted out, smoke circling his head and drifting off into the woods. He couldn't identify the scent. But that was all right. He knelt down, sat on his heels, clapped his hands, and slowly leaned forward, palms to the cold stones, until his forehead touched the ground. He froze like that, and time began to pass.

XXX

When Renji arrived at the temple, he made quite a splash. Renji wasn't a spiritual kind of guy … he was more down-to-earth. He was boisterous. He was almost hedonistic in his open-hearted way with people, pursuing pleasure with both sexes – Renji Abarai didn't believe in discrimination! He hopped off the bus and blew a kiss to the cute schoolgirls who'd been eyeing him the whole way, giggling and whispering to each other. They screeched (he could even hear it out here!) and blushed, giggling behind their hands. _Cute_, Renji thought. _But jail-bait usually is!_ He turned away from the bus stop and surveyed the torii, much like Ichigo had. But Renji was whistling under his breath and he grinned unashamed at two men who came out of the temple grounds while he stood there. They walked past, frowning at his outlandish hair.

_Old grouches_, Renji thought, but he didn't say anything out loud. Instead, he walked under the torii and entered the temple grounds. A beggar was sitting there, back against the low stone wall that abutted the torii, a small bowl at his feet. Renji emptied his pockets into the bowl. "There you are, grandfather," he murmured. "Please eat well tonight." The beggar's face split in a wide, toothless smile, he nodded over and over, saying thank you, bless you, the gods watch over you. Renji waved his thanks away, smiling and bowing to the elderly man. When he walked away, the old man was still thanking him. Renji waved and turned back to walk briskly down the path.

Now … where could that Ichigo be? He flipped his long red ponytail off his shoulder, pushed up his sleeves, and began to trot along the stone pathway.

XXX

_Why in the fuck can I not successfully follow anybody in this goddamned town?!_ Grimmjow fumed to himself. He'd had to take the next bus to Mikaita Temple because he missed the one Renji took by, like, six lousy fucking feet! He'd shouted and the goddamned driver had ignored him, that shit, kept driving like he couldn't hear a thing. Grimmjow had decided, however illogically, that if he ever saw him again he was going to beat the crap out of him.

He finally settled into a seat on the next bus, sighing dramatically and raking a hand through his blue spikes. Maybe he could relax and try to enjoy the ride, think about what he was gonna say to Ichigo. But it was not to be. At the next stop a couple of loud, rude kids got on. Teenagers, they were the kind of mouthy assholes everyone dreaded sharing a ride with … acting like little fucking jerks, causing trouble and bothering people, and as Grimmjow got more and more impatient, he'd stepped forward.

"No," said a quiet voice on his left. Grimm looked down. A little man sat there, looking up at him. "Do not get involved, sir," he said. "Those boys are street trash, some say yakuza." His fingers plucked at Grimmjow's t-shirt hem.

"Huh," was the grunted reply. He patted the hand 'til it released his shirt, then stood up and squirmed his way forward to where the _kids_ were tormenting a young woman, pushing her, tweaking her hair, trying to take her purse. The woman looked positively scared out of her wits. Tears filled her eyes. The people around her were mostly elderly or women – and all of them looked scared.

"HEY," Grimm said as he pushed his way through to where the drama was unfolding. Both the "kids" looked up at the intrusion.

"Back the fuck off, ojiisan!" one of the punks said, his bleached hair falling over one eye. He sneered at Grimmjow and then he and his 'partner' laughed and resumed pushing the young woman back and forth between them. [AN – ojiisan = old man]

"Let her go, you little fuckers, or you're gonna be really _really_ sorry." Grimmjow glared at them, lips parting in a snarl. The driver was watching, his eyes wide as he noted Grimmjow getting involved in the situation. He didn't want anybody else getting into it with those trouble-making boys, but he had to drive, too, and he couldn't keep his eyes on everything all at once. Besides, he was scared of those damn kids, too … they'd caused trouble on the bus before.

"No, you're the one who's gonna be sorry, ojiisan!" the other kid yelled, his bleached-blond hair sticking up like a porcupine.

"Stop." Grimmjow took the two steps to bring him right up to the punks. "Calling." He grabbed blondie's shirt in one hand and lifted him up off the floor. "Me." He yelled right in his face. "OLD MAN!" He grabbed the other one's shirt and yanked him forward, too. Both punks were yelling. Grimmjow shook them like they were bad dogs who peed on the couch. The tormented woman had disappeared behind Grimm, enfolded into the comfort of the crowd.

"Open the door, driver-san!" Grimm yelled as he whacked the two yakuza-wanna-be's against each other. "Now, goddammit!" The bus screeched to a halt and the door opened behind Grimmjow, he spun and threw the two punks out. They landed on the sidewalk in a heap. "Stay off the bus, you little fuckers! I see you two on here again, and your asses are MINE!" The door closed … but probably not before the 'little fuckers' could hear the applause begin on the bus.

ANYway … now they had finally stopped near the temple grounds' entrance and he was standing on the sidewalk. Renji was nowhere to be seen. A shabbily-dressed person was walking away down the sidewalk, there were other pedestrians visible, but none had that vibrant red hair. Shit. Quickly he darted through the torii and began a fast walk down the cobbled pathway, head turning from side to side as he scanned the area for red or orange hair. Nothing so far. He quickened his steps.

XXX

Ichigo held his position even as his knees began to protest the hard surface beneath them. He ignored his body as he sent his thoughts out to the long list of patients who had not made it – the ones he'd loved and lost. Being here always made him think foremost of Yuki. Yamaguchi Yukihiro, who had been a monk for 15 years when he'd suffered a fall that sent him into a coma. Had it really been that long ago that Yukihiro had been under Ichigo's care?

_The monk had been up on the highest part of the pagoda, in order to replace a section of damaged tiles. The monks almost always did all the repair work to the temple themselves, unless it was something totally outside the scope of their knowledge. That didn't happen often. _

_On this day, Yukihiro was on the uppermost portion of the temple's high ornate roof, replacing some of the thousands of tiles that protected the shrine from the elements. Would he have done things differently if he'd known that the structural integrity of that area was almost completely compromised? No-one had been sure, but he hadn't even had time to connect his safety harness before falling. And Ichigo had a new patient in his room that was in desperate need._

_When it became clear that Yamaguchi-san's injuries were resulting in long-lasting effects, he was transferred to 3C and placed in Ichigo's room on the ward. When he arrived for work that day, Ichigo had been surprised to see the outer waiting area almost completely filled with monks in their saffron-yellow robes. Some were talking quietly, others were sitting motionless, eyes closed, obviously deep in prayer or meditation. Ichigo received report from Renji and entered the room. _

_Two monks stood at the bedside of his newest patient. Ichigo bowed deeply. They were silent. He took his cue from them and walked to the patient's side without saying a word. He introduced himself to the newest occupant of the bed, speaking respectfully as befitted a young man addressing a fully-fledged Buddhist monk. He began his physical assessment as he spoke._

_The monitor showed all vital signs depressed. Not good, but at least they were steady. The patient was intubated, central intravenous line coming off the right femoral artery at the groin, his left arm was in a splint, he had a cervical collar on his neck, and both his lower legs were in boot casts. Yuki's entire head had basically been a mass of bandages … his injuries there were so extensive that all one could see was the tube sticking out of white gauze._

_Dr. Aizen had been the physician for this patient. "We won't be able to extubate him and insert a trach until we can safely remove the cervical collar, which should be next week. The surgery to fix his cervical spine fracture was three weeks ago. His spinal cord does show signs of damage … but we won't know for sure whether he's paralyzed until he awakens." Ichigo had nodded. It certainly didn't sound good, but he took his cue from the physician: 'until he awakens'._

_The monks were there constantly, virtually the whole time Yukihiro was Ichigo's patient. It was from them that he learned all about Yuki's life, from his beginnings as a Kanzai youngster to the very day of his accident. As he would bathe the comatose man, he heard the tales of his kindness … his uncanny wisdom in one so young … his selfless devotion to the tenets of his calling. Ichigo fell in love with Yuki almost against his will – he had only recently lost Ramon and was still feeling the despair at that loss. But he couldn't help it._

_Yukihiro had died on Chad's shift. His systems shut down, one by one … gently he had slipped away without waking. Chad had called Ichigo to tell him that the end was near, and even though Ichigo had rushed in so that he could say goodbye, it had been too late. Too late. Yuki's death, coming so closely on the heels of the loss of Ramon, had been devastating. _

On his knees, forehead touching the cold cobblestones, Ichigo sent his thoughts out to his former patients, those men who had touched his life so profoundly. He re-dedicated himself to them, retied the red strings that bound his heart, set his feet back upon the path he had chosen for himself. They were all that mattered. Time passed, the sun moved westward on its endless journey across the heavens. Still he knelt, ignoring the pain in his knees. It was more like penance than reverence. But it was what Ichigo needed.

XXX

Renji had given up. He'd looked everywhere he could think of for Ichigo and could _not_ find him! What the hell?! Had he slipped out when Renji was around the back of the temple searching the small shrines that dotted the landscape behind the buildings? Perhaps. But he was beginning to feel foolish and the monks were starting to give him 'looks' as he retraced his steps _again_ on the walkways. He was giving off bad vibes. He'd asked several monks about Ichi's whereabouts, but they'd all just bowed with that mysterious smile. Renji wasn't sure whether they couldn't or wouldn't tell him where Ichigo was … but either way the result was the same. Finally, with a sigh, he turned around to head for the path out, and saw a head of blue hair.

Only one person with hair like _that_. Grimmjow was talking with a monk, frowning down at him, impatience in every line. Renji's eyebrows went up as he watched. What was Grimmjow doing here? Was he looking for Renji? Somehow he didn't think so. Suddenly Renji's suspicions were confirmed as he heard Grimm say, "Look … he has orange hair. Orange! How many people with orange hair have come to visit today?!" A smile spread on Renji's face. Ah, so … the plot thickens.

Renji had a heart that had many rooms. In not a one of them could you find jealousy or rancor. If Ichigo was maybe starting something up with the tall blue-eyed man, Renji would wish him nothing but happiness. His night of passion with Grimmjow didn't matter … it had been a one-nighter and they'd both known it. He grinned and slipped away into the trees. _Go get 'im, Grimmjow_, he thought. _Wake that guy up to what good lovin' is all about._ He chuckled to himself as he regained the path and made his way back toward the city.

XXX

"Fine. Then I'll just wait. I'll just wait right fu—I mean, right here. No harm in that, right Padre?" Grimmjow said, settling himself on the steps of the temple. He had a good view of the main entrance pathway to the building, and he'd just stay right here until Ichigo came back from wherever the hell he was. The monk looked up at Grimm with an inscrutable expression. Grimmjow looked back down at him, then gave one of his trademark grins. "I won't bother nobody, Father," he said, impishly knowing that was _not_ how one addressed a Buddhist monk. "I'll just sit here and y'know, meditate and sh—stuff like that. Say a couple prayers. Bird-watch. I won't make a sound. No problemo." The monk bowed but didn't leave. "Oh yeah … where do I go if I wanna smoke?" Another heart-breaking grin, blue eyes glittering like sapphires.

Only Grimmjow Jaegerjaques could make a seasoned Buddhist monk sigh.

XXX

**End Chapter 12**

**Stay tuned, my little chickadees! More coming soon. Thanks for reading!**

**Ahvienda**


	13. Chapter 13 When First We Practice

**Chapter 13 – When First We Practice**

**Warning, Will Robinson! – Yaoi sex, nasty talk, adult situations**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Bleach … or Lost in Space, either! XD**

Ichigo Kurosaki was dreaming. Unbeknownst to him, he'd passed out in his homage position, abruptly collapsing forward onto his face, still kneeling. He breathed deeply and evenly. In the dream …

… _he was on a beach, a beautiful nameless beach, who knew where. The sun shone onto his back as he sat up, looking out at the water. Crystal teal blue, the color of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques' hair, white sand, fluffy white clouds in the distance. Someone was playing in the water at the edge of the sea, splashing and leaping about joyfully. Shoulder-length black hair, body tanned golden brown by the sun, he was a young teen – perhaps 14 or 15 years old? Even from behind, Ichigo recognized him immediately. Ramon. Ramon Constanza. One of—_

"_Hey, Ichigo! C'mere! Look at this one!" His excited voice broke into Ichigo's reverie and he rose to his feet, easily, although his hips ached when he stood straight up. He walked through the warm sand until he stood at the water's edge. _

_Ramon ran up to him, a beautiful seashell in his hands. "Look! It's a harpa, right? See the little scalloped markings? It's the best one I've ever found!" He laughed. Ichigo chuckled, he couldn't help it. Ramon had a beautiful voice and an infectious laugh. It was one Ichigo had never heard in real life, Ramon had only been silent and still all the time Ichigo had known him._

"_It's gorgeous," Ichigo agreed, taking the large shell when Ramon handed it to him. But he couldn't look at it for long. His eyes were pulled up to look at the slender youth in front of him. Medium height, long lean limbs with runner's muscles, snapping black eyes and bright white teeth in a handsome smile. Ramon alive and well, brimming with health and vitality. It was a beautiful picture._

"_I found some more, too, but this is the best one," he said. "While you were sleeping. How's your hips?"_

"_Well, funny you should ask … they ache a little bit … hey, wait a minute. How did you know?" Ichigo couldn't tear his eyes away from this vibrant living Ramon. It hurt his heart while at the same time, it comforted him. _

"_Well, you kinda fell asleep in a weird way, didn't you?" Ramon said, tilting his head to the side, squinting up at Ichigo. "Your body, y'know. It's all splayed out and your hips are gonna hurt like hell when you wake up, man." He grinned, white teeth shining against his dark skin._

"_I …" Ichigo was confused. But Ramon clapped him on the shoulder and then took his hand, pulling him into the warm water. _

"_C'mon, Ichigo … you shouldn't waste a good dream like this. You have too many nightmares to let something like this go without taking advantage of it!" He pulled Ichigo into the small waves, walking out toward the horizon, until they were waist-deep. "Isn't it great? Ah, man, I miss stuff like this. That's why I begged them to let me be the one to come. And they finally agreed, prolly to get rid of me, what do you think of my strategy?" He laughed again, delightfully, then suddenly dunked down into the surf, coming up spluttering and shaking his long black hair backwards from his face. Water droplets clung to his skin, shimmering in the sunlight. Beautiful. _

_Ichigo felt tears fill his eyes. This was the Ramon that could have been, _should_ have been, if he hadn't been beaten near to death by his stepfather. _May he rot in hell_, Ichigo thought. But that thought was stopped in its tracks when Ramon stepped in close and folded Ichigo up in his strong, warm arms. _

"_Now, none of that," he murmured. "Look," he said, touching his fingers to Ichigo's face. "Pearls. Neat trick, huh?" He smiled as Ichigo tore his gaze away to look at the glowing pearls in Ramon's palm. "Don't cry, Ichigo. We hate it when you cry." They stood there for a while, Ichigo wrapped his arms tightly around the younger man, holding on for all he was worth, the waves gently rising and falling around them._

"_Feels so real," Ichigo whispered. _

"_What is 'real'?" Ramon said. "If you feel it, in your heart and soul, just because it's taking place in your head, does that make it unreal? I don't think so." He patted Ichigo's back, then leaned backward, holding the orange-haired male at arms' length. "Come on. Let's take a walk. It's too nice here to stand still, don't you think?"_

_Ichigo's hips felt like they were filled with ground glass now, but he only grimaced slightly as he turned and began walking with Ramon through the surf. Ramon kept an arm around Ichigo's waist. They angled up and out of the water until it was just about calf-height. Ramon splashed through the blue water, laughing when small fishes – disturbed by their legs – began jumping out of the sea around them, silver sides flashing in the sun. _

"_You keep saying 'we'," Ichigo said._

"_Yep."_

"_You mean …."_

"_Yep. All of us. You took care of us," Ramon said, giving Ichigo's waist a squeeze. "We love you, Ichigo, and we don't want you to be unhappy. And you are unhappy, most of the time. It hurts us to see it."_

_Ichigo had no reply for a moment. What a weird dream this was. So real, but so unreal. What was real? He put a hand to his head, closing his eyes._

"_Listen," Ramon said. "I don't have much time left. That blue-haired guy is coming." The sun was suddenly sinking lower on the horizon, leaving a long orange streak in the ocean, shining a warm golden glow onto Ramon's tanned skin. He turned to face Ichigo, holding him by the biceps, looking earnestly up into his face. The teen's eyes, so dark brown you almost couldn't tell where the pupils began, stared into Ichigo's. Those eyes. So beautiful. Ramon had only had one eye when he'd been in Ichigo's care … the right one had had to be removed by the doctors, it had been damaged so badly during that final beating. But now … Ichigo's heart clenched in his chest. Whole, handsome, so full of life. _

_Ramon shook him to get his attention. "Hey, pay attention, man," he said, chuckling. "I know I'm a hottie, but you gotta focus, Ichigo." He laid a palm alongside Ichigo's cheek. "We know what you're doing, and why. And we love you, and love that you remember us. But … ah, dammit … I'm sorry, guys, I tried! Don't be mad at me, time got away from me!"_

_Ichigo, sorely confused, looked at Ramon, frowning slightly. "What?"_

"_Great, now they're all gonna be pissed at me," the youth grumbled. But his sunny smile was suddenly back, shining with love as he looked into Ichigo's face. "You're a smart guy, you'll figure it out. Life is for the living, Ichigo … heard that before, haven't ya?"_

"_Y-yes, but—" The sun was setting, cut in half by the watery horizon. Stars began to peek out here and there, shimmering in the surface of the suddenly still water. A fin broke the surface and then slid out of view. A sea bird called, its song plaintive and mournful. _

"_Take care of Shinji for us … we don't want to see him for a while, y'know?" Ramon pulled Ichigo closer, hugging him tightly._

"_I—I will. But, Ramon—"_

"_And tell Chad not to walk through the park on his way to work Tuesday morning. Trust us. Okay? … I know, I know he's coming … I _am_ hurrying, will you let me get on with it?" He suddenly turned his head and kissed Ichigo full on the mouth – and such a kiss. Love, longing, memory, hope – how a kiss could convey such complexity, Ichigo didn't know, but it did. He responded, answering the kiss as best he could. Warm lips, salty from ocean spray, soft wet tongue. It seemed to go on and on, but that couldn't be real, right?_

"_That's from Ulquiorra and Hayato … okay, okay! … actually from all of us, but they insisted the strongest," Ramon said, chuckling. He straightened. "Whoops – here he is. Bye, Ichigo. It was nice meeting you. Remember, tell Chad! And remember, we're watching out for you … and we love you … oh! And—"_

"Hey! Jesus Christ, are you okay, Ichigo?" Strong arms were around him, and suddenly gave him a good shaking. Ichigo moaned. His hip joints felt like they were on fire, they ached deep inside, sending bolts of referred pain down his legs. "You were all slumped over, are you all right?" Ichigo moaned again. His mouth was so dry, it felt like his tongue was a lumpy foreign object in his mouth.

"All right, we're getting you to the monks. Hang on, man," the deep, anxious voice of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques said in Ichigo's ear. He was scooped up in a pair of strong arms, and then Ichigo lost consciousness again.

XXX

Grimmjow sat by Ichigo's bedside, chewing on the inside of his lip. The orange-haired man was so still, all Grimm could see was the gentle rise and fall of his chest under the thin blanket. His face was so pale, it nearly matched the fever strip the monks had placed on his forehead. His freckles stood out in stark relief. His lips were pale, appearing bloodless in the dim light. _Anemia and dehydration, bringing on a fever_, they'd told him. Did that really happen to people? Sounded like something out of a shoujo manga to Grimm.

It had been dark when he found Ichigo, way back in the woods behind the temple. How he'd found him, Grimm would never know, it'd been almost like someone or something was guiding his steps until he found the hidden path, nearly invisible by the overgrowth of bushes that lined the proper walkway. Pushing his way through the underbrush, finally coming out into the small clearing and seeing the crumpled body in a shaft of moonlight – Grimmjow had thought his heart was about to burst out of his chest.

When he'd arrived at the steps of the temple, carrying the limp body of Ichigo in his arms, the monks had quietly and efficiently taken charge. He'd been directed to one of the guest "cells", where he laid Ichigo down on a thin futon in the middle of the four-tatami-mat room. They'd checked his temperature and placed the strip on his head. Water was brought to the room, a bowl of cool water and a decanter and glass for when Ichigo woke up. Grimmjow was pressed into service – like he'd have left anyway! – then was left to watch over the sleeping man, with the admonishment that he call for help if needed.

That had been an hour ago. Ichigo showed no signs of waking up. What the hell. Grimmjow leaned over him and peered into his face. "Hey," he said quietly. "Hey, Ichigo … wake up, man, and have somethin' to drink." Not a twitch. "Oy. Ichigo. Come on … you have to drink something. Otherwise you're gonna end up in the hospital." Nothing. "Okay, fine. You're going to take some water whether you like it or not." He filled the glass with water from the carafe, then took a drink, swallowing a few gulps (he was thirsty, too!) but keeping a mouthful intact. Then he leaned over and kissed Ichigo, slowly parting his lips. When he was successful, he let trickles of water enter Ichigo's mouth, stroking his throat lightly with one hand to stimulate him to swallow.

It worked. Convulsively, Ichigo swallowed small mouthfuls of water as Grimmjow fed them to him. He kept at it until the glass was empty. Then he re-wet the fever strip on the redhead's forehead and settled back to wait. Was it his imagination or did the handsome Ichigo seemed to rest easier now? "Hey, I'm a great nurse, too. Who knew?" he said out loud, chuckling.

The night wore on, becoming chilly in the small room. Grimmjow grew sleepy. He tried changing positions and still found himself starting to drop off. Even Ichigo's thin futon seemed luxurious now. So when the idea came to lie down next to the other man and catch a few winks, he embraced it – literally. He fed Ichigo more water, then lifted the thin blanket and crawled under it, plastering himself to the oranget's side, lifting his head to slide one muscular arm under it, pulling him close and offering the warmth of his body as comfort_. Yeah, that's right_, he thought. _I'm the one doing the comforting, not the other way around_. His ego appeased, he drifted off into a much-needed sleep.

XXX

A biological clock is a powerful thing. Ichigo's woke him up around midnight, his circadian rhythm still keeping him to mid-shift time. His eyes fluttered open, he blearily looked around the unfamiliar room. He licked his lips and swallowed, then shifted position. Or at least, tried to. Something was holding him down. He turned his head to the side and, in the light of a small lantern that burned merrily nearby, saw messy blue peeping out from the blanket. Ichigo's eyes opened wide. What the hell? He squirmed around and slid out from under a long muscular arm, then sat up, looking around, finally bringing his gaze back onto the sleeping body of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

Okay. Okay. What was the last thing he remembered. He was … uh … his brain was receiving conflicting messages. Okay then, start from the top. The incident with Byakuya, the visit from Shuu, the revelations he'd had in his apartment. Calling Orihime and cancelling the date at Seireitei. Making up his mind to go to the temple. Finding the small remote altar and kneeling down to pray, to commune with his beloveds. And then … and then … Ramon's face drifted across the landscape of his inner vision. He'd had a dream … a good dream. But it was like trying to hold the wind in his hands, the contents of the dream shifted and resisted remembrance. A seashell, graceful and lovely. The call of a seabird. His lips tingled with the memory of a warm kiss, the trickle of water into his mouth … wait.

Ichigo shook his head. What the hell? He frowned and his forehead felt funny. A quick check found the fever strip, which he peeled off and stared at. He put it aside, near a bowl half-full of water, a decanter with a few inches of water in it, and an empty glass. Suddenly viciously thirsty, he grabbed the decanter and emptied it in a few swift swallows. It was heavenly. Putting the carafe back down on the tatami, he finally turned to observe his bedmate.

Grimmjow slept quietly, on his side with his head pillowed on one muscular arm. His sleeping face was oddly innocent-looking. Ichigo was a sucker for sleeping faces – which made sense, seeing as how all the men he'd fallen in love with up 'til now had been 'sleeping'. Grimmjow's face was extraordinarily handsome in repose. The soft, almost-delicate-looking eyebrows, blue as his hair. His eyelashes, too, Ichigo noticed. They were long, brushing his cheeks. No frown lines between his brows, that wild hair shining in the lamplight, his unfashionable sideburns … Ichigo shook his head ruefully. He was a piece of work, wasn't he. _A handsome, sexy piece of work_, a sneaky little voice said in Ichigo's head.

But what was he doing here? How? Belatedly noticing that he (Ichigo) was almost naked – and the room was cold – he shivered and started to disentangle his legs from Grimmjow's.

"Mmf … hold still, Zay," Grimmjow mumbled quietly.

Aww. He was dreaming about his brother. Ichigo smiled, patted Grimmjow on the shoulder, and whispered, "sorry … go back to sleep," and slid his legs out from under the bluenet's. At once, a strong arm wrapped around his hips, pulling him back snugly up against a warm body.

"Hol' still … 's cold … nn," Grimmjow grumbled as he snuggled close, pulling the blanket up around the two of them again. Ichigo laid there like a statue, feeling the warmth of the other man banish his goose bumps. He _could_ push the other man away … he _could_ sneak out from under his warm arm and get up … he _could_ get dressed and leave. But he was warm … and it felt so good with the other man pressed so closely up against his side. It was cold in the guest cell … he could imagine how it was outside right now … and he hadn't worn a coat over his suit when he'd been out and about the previous day.

So warm. Ichigo carefully used his left hand to stroke lightly up the arm that held him so securely. A soft snore met his efforts, so he was emboldened to do more. He turned his head and found his face in the hollow of Grimmjow's neck … and he smelled _so_ good. He breathed in deeply, taking in the man's scent, nostrils flaring. A low moan escaped him and he froze. But rumbly snoring – not loud, kinda cute actually – was the only response, so Ichigo relaxed again.

Belatedly he noticed that he was half-hard and well on his way to being fully erect. Achingly so. Oh, shit. The warmth, that scent, the hard body that held him so tight … he wasn't immune to such a sensual onslaught. Far from it. He squirmed slightly, resulting in a tightening of the arm around his waist. The leg that was thrown over his thighs shifted, bending at the hip and knee and coming up higher, ending up coming into contact with Ichigo's tight scrotum. The gentle pressure was enough to make him shudder deliciously. He was breathing heavily now, soft chuffs against Grimmjow's neck.

Whatever it was that woke him, however long he'd actually been awake, Grimmjow wasn't one to mistake the signs of an aroused man in his arms. "Shh," he whispered, making Ichigo's fingers clench slightly on his forearm. "'S okay," he rumbled in a sleep-rusty voice. "Lemme take care o' you." His arm shifted, loosened from around Ichigo's waist, traveled with rough caresses down his body. When his fingers came into contact with Ichigo's erection, currently merrily tenting his underwear, Ichigo's back arched spasmodically, his muscles tightening of their own volition. Grimmjow rubbed that hardness through the thin material, outlining its shape, moving down to cup Ichigo's balls and squeeze them gently before moving back to stroke and caress a now-twitching cock.

"Uhn," Ichigo breathed, lost in sensation. The rubbing hand felt so good, the body next to his was so warm and so sensuous. He could feel Grimmjow's dick stirring against his right hip. But he completely lost all coherent thought when that hand slid inside the waistband of his boxer briefs and clasped his naked dick. Oh. Oh, yes. Stroking, softly at first, fingers just barely brushing against the taut skin, slipping down to caress his balls, then back up to stroke again. Ichigo shuddered with pleasure, earning a soft chuckle over his head.

"Feels good, yeah?" that gravelly voice said, oh-so-softly. "I can tell … you're getting all slippery down here." Pre-seminal fluid, leaking freely from Ichigo's slit, now caught up by talented fingers and spread deliciously all over his throbbing head and hard shaft. Grimmjow's hand grasped Ichigo's cock tightly now, pulling it up so the underwear slid down and out of the way – and began stroking in earnest.

"Ah! Ah! Yess …" Ichigo tried to keep his cries quiet, and for the most part he was successful. His hips began to flex slightly in time with that hand, it was so good, so good.

"It's all right," Grimmjow said. "I'll take care of you. Let it go." His dick was now painfully hard, pressed tightly up against Ichigo's hip. Grimm was trying to ignore it, but it was pulsating for attention. He swallowed hard and forced his concentration to the task at hand. No pun intended. He squeezed, smearing pre-cum all over that pretty cock, clenching Ichigo close with his right leg and left arm. Stroke, stroke, slide one finger up and over the head, stroke again, slide a fingertip into the slit – making Ichigo shudder and cry out softly – then sliding his slippery hand up and down again and again. Increasing the rhythm, pressing a kiss to orange hair, helplessly rubbing his dick against the other man's side.

Ichigo could feel it. Grimmjow was moving his hips, was he aware of it? Who cared. The feeling of that hard, long cock pressing up against his side was amazing, so sexy, he couldn't help it, he turned in Grimmjow's arms to face him, lifting his face to press a hot kiss to the other man's neck. Instantly he was gripped, so tightly, pulled close, Grimmjow ripped his own underwear down and gasped roughly when their dicks pressed together. He circled both in his big-handed grip. With an audible groan he resumed stroking, lathering them both with a mixture of their pre-cum, slippery and hot.

Ichigo reached up with his free hand and laced his fingers into Grimmjow's hair – so soft! – and pulled his head down. Their lips met in a searing kiss, both their bodies were taut, straining against each other, shaking with need and desire. Grimmjow could feel Ichigo's heat blazing off his body – did he still have a fever? Was he making things worse? But then Ichigo's tongue entered his mouth and blasted all the thoughts out of his head. Hot, wet, sliding in and caressing Grimm's tongue, he gave up all pretense of stopping and sucked on it blissfully.

"Nnh … mmm!" Ichigo subvocalized, his body shaking uncontrollably now, gripping Grimmjow with desperate strength.

Grimm broke the kiss. "Yeah," he grunted, pulling his upper body back just enough to look down at Ichigo's upturned face. His eyes were closed, his face was flushed, his lips were wet from their kisses, pleasure stamped on his features. "Oh yeah," he said, then leaned in to take Ichigo's lower lip in his mouth, sucking it, nibbling on it. He quickened the pace, reveling in the sensations: Ichigo's body, pressed tightly up against his … their dicks, sliding wetly against each other, gripped tightly in his fist … Ichigo's breath gusting out onto his face … the pleasure intensifying in his belly, growing and glowing red-hot … Ichigo's fingers clenching his hair, pulling … ah, gods yeah. He bit Ichigo's lip.

"Ah! Nn … ahh!" Ichigo's body froze, shuddered, and spasmed as his lip popped free. "Coming! Ah!" Warm cum spurting out of him to splatter their bellies. Grimmjow watched Ichigo's face while he came … and that sexy, gorgeous face as it glowed with pleasure pushed Grimm hell-for-leather into his own orgasm – which felt so fuckin' good he had to forcibly stop himself from shouting out loud. Instead he gasped for breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and kept stroking until the pleasure was so intense it was _painful_. "Gah," he groaned, opening his eyes again when the waves faded to a soft glow. Ichigo's face was tucked under Grimm's chin again, both of them breathing heavily, shaking with reaction. Grimmjow rumbled low laughter deep in his chest. "Damn," he said quietly, in between heavy breathing, "I don't think I could get up even if this futon suddenly burst into flames." Aftershocks had him shaking. Fuck, it was good.

No response from Ichigo. "Hey … you asleep again already?" Grimmjow asked. "I dunno if that's a compliment or not." He chuckled again. Still no response. Was it now that Grimmjow suddenly noticed his companion was blazing hot? Perhaps it was because the heat in his own body had begun to abate, so the fever that had returned to Ichigo's body was more noticeable. "Shit!" Grimm cursed quietly. He extricated himself and laid Ichigo down on his back. Yeah, he was burning up. He soaked the fever strip again and laid it back on the other man's forehead, fed him more water, and used his own shirt to wipe him off.

After a visit to the small attached bathroom on still-shaky legs, Grimmjow mixed the aspirin powder he'd found in the medicine cabinet into a glass of water and fed that to the sleeping? unconscious? Ichigo. Sitting on his haunches next to the oranget, he ran a hand through his messy blue hair and chuffed out a breath. What a day. And what an ending! He stared down at the sleeping man, worrying about him. He sat there, brooding as he watched over Ichigo, not moving aside from his duties to keep the forehead fever strip watered.

XXX

Morning came. At 8:00 a.m., Grimmjow got up, fed Ichigo more aspirin-laced water, and went to the bathroom. When he came back he was dressed, although he wasn't wearing the soiled shirt. He sat back down and dribbled more water on the strip. He thought Ichigo seemed to be sleeping normally, his fever reduced, although that could be because of the aspirin. He had no idea. But Ichigo was calm and quiet, his chest rising and falling slowly under the blanket.

Grimmjow's phone vibrated in his pocket. He answered it, keeping his voice down. Listened for a few seconds. Then he cursed loudly, leapt to his feet, and tore out of the room at a run.

XXX

7:15 a.m. Luppi was sitting at the nurse's desk in room 13, stifling a yawn. He was pulling weekend duty for a friend, they'd switched shifts so that the friend could take his girlfriend on a special date to the Aquarium. Now he was regretting it, of course … but he'd be happy about it when he had Wednesday off later in the week. He looked at the computer screen, where he was reviewing the nursing notes left by the midshift nurse. They'd done report, of course, but he still liked to go over the notes just in case report left something out. And he'd look at all the labs, too. Luppi was a very efficient nurse, very good at his job, very thorough and reliable, for all his personal faults.

A blip from one of the patient monitors caught his attention immediately. He got up and walked across the room, looking at it intently. A PVC … then another. "What the fuck," he muttered, watching, glancing down at the patient. [**A/N** – PVC: premature ventricular contraction. Not a danger by itself in an otherwise healthy person, this premature heart beat can signal trouble] Another one. Luppi watched, becoming more and more concerned as the PVC's began to stack up, one after the other.

Then the EKG monitor began to alarm as the trace launched into easily recognizable V-tach. [**A/N** – Ventricular tachycardia, an abnormal heart rhythm that can rapidly lead to V-fib (ventricular fibrillation, uncontrollable fluttering of the ventricles of the heart, not a viable life-sustaining rhythm) or asystole (no heart rate at all) or death] Luppi swore loudly and raced over to the wall near the nurse's desk where he smacked the Code Blue alarm button on the wall. Immediately the overhead pager activated. "_Code Blue, 3__rd__ Floor, Room 313. Code Blue, 3__rd__ Floor, Room 313_." He grabbed the backboard from its place behind the nurse's desk and ran back to the patient's bedside. By the time he got there, the rhythm had already deteriorated into V-fib, the scrawling trace line making a jagged mark across the monitor.

When the Code team arrived, Luppi had already managed to pull Szayel up, put the backboard under his body, and was up on top of him, doing chest compressions. The team went to work – defibrillator pads were slapped onto Szayel's chest and the defibrillator was charging up to give a starting shock of 200 Joules. "Clear!" the anesthesiologist barked, and Luppi jumped down. "Shock!" the doctor said grimly, and the tech hit the button. Szayel jerked as the machine shot 200 Joules into his chest. Everyone watched the monitor.

"V-tach … resume compressions … give a full dose of Bicarb and follow it with epinephrine … stand by with the defibrillator." Luppi was the first person to leap back onto the bed and start up chest compressions again. "Atropine next," the doctor ordered, watching the trace as he pushed the emergency meds.

"He's fibrillating again!" the tech shouted, followed closely by, "charging!"

"Make it 300 Joules this time," the anesthesia doc ordered. "Ready? Okay, clear!" Luppi hopped off the bed, gasping from the exertion, his face white and grim. "Shock!" the tech said, and hit the button again. Everyone watched the trace. "We've got a rhythm!"

"He's a little tachy, but it'll do," the doctor. "Set up a lidocaine drip, I don't like that blood pressure. Luppi, contact the cath lab, he's gotta get in there now."

"Got it," the little nurse primly said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. After a brief conversation, he reported, "They're sending up a gurney and getting the room ready. ETA ten minutes."

"Good. I'll go with him. Let's get him ready for transport. Jake," he said to the tech, "Page Dr. Kuchiki."

XXX

It was after Szayel had been transported to the cardiac catheterization lab that Luppi had the time to call his family and report that their loved one had had a heart attack and was in the cath lab having coronary artery stents placed. The prognosis was good. He was in critical but stable condition, at present. He'd had to hold the phone away from his ear when Grimmjow cursed loudly and then hung up on him. Luppi sighed, looking over at Shinji where he slept on, unaware of the drama that had just taken place. He hoped Szayel was going to be okay. Luppi had taken a liking to the pink-haired man.

XXX

When Ichigo woke up, he felt refreshed and well. He'd slept through most of the day, tended by the monks after Grimmjow left. A monk sat cross-legged next to him now, apparently meditating. But when Ichigo stirred and sat up, the monk's eyes opened. He got up, walked to the sliding door, and opened it to speak to another monk sitting outside. Moments later, a bowl was passed to him through the door. He turned and walked back to where Ichigo still sat on the futon, blanket bunched around his waist.

"Here, Kurosaki-kun … some congee. Eat it, if you please. Your stomach has been rumbling for the past three hours." [A/N – congee: the rice porridge given to people recovering from illness]

"Oh. Thank you, Roshi-sama," Ichigo said, placing his hands palms-together and bowing his head as he spoke. He took the bowl from the Abbot when it was offered and, at his urging, began to eat. It was bland, but it was good. He soon finished the entire bowl, feeling warm and full when he handed the bowl and chopsticks back to the monk.

"Kurosaki-kun … you have been visiting us for many years. We know you and we like you. Thus we do not like to see you troubled, or making yourself sick through self-deprivation. When your friend brought you to us, we were all concerned. You must take better care of yourself. We insist." The Abbot said all this in a very humble way, good will stamped on his aged features.

"I'm sorry, Roshi-sama … please forgive me. I didn't mean to trouble you," Ichigo began. The Abbot waved away all this talk of forgiveness. Ichigo continued, "Yesterday was … a very troublesome day. I just needed to meditate and think about things. I'm sorry, I forgot to eat or drink. I'll be more careful from now on, I promise."

"This is good." The Abbot sat there for a few moments of silence. Ichigo waited patiently – if the monk was done talking he would have left. "You are a singular young man, Kurosake-kun. I sense that your heart is full, yet empty. You have much, and yet you have nothing. This enigma will give me much to ponder. I think it would do you well if you pondered it as well. Will you do so?"

Ichigo, who valued the Master's viewpoint more than he could say, bowed his head. "Yes, Roshi-sama. I will."

"And will you return to discuss this with me? When you have meditated and received enlightenment concerning your enigma?" The Master smiled when he said this.

Ichigo smiled too, although ruefully. "Yes, sir. I will. I promise."

"Then I am content. Bring your interesting friends with you … those of the colored hair. Like gaudy birds, they are, chattering and interrupting this calm peaceful place. Oh, not in a bad way, Kurosake-kun, do not fret. Peace must be disturbed in order to be certain that it is there."

Huh? Ichigo wasn't _entirely_ sure what the monk meant by that last part, but he could see the comparison between Renji and Grimmjow and two multi-colored, chattering birds. He smiled. "I will, Roshi-sama."

"Good." The monk said his farewells and left, leaving Ichigo to get dressed in silence. The walk out of the temple grounds was uneventful. _Your heart is full, yet empty_. He frowned as he rounded the last curve leading up to the torii. _You have much, and yet you have nothing_. He took the train back to the nearest station to his apartment, then walked the rest of the way, silently musing the Abbot's words.

It wasn't until he was back in his apartment, starting a pot of coffee, that he had a startling recall of an apparent fever-dream in which he'd gotten his rocks off with Grimmjow. He remembered waking up and finding himself next to bluenet, who had apparently taken care of him when he got sick or passed out or whatever. He remembered lying next to the other man, trying to keep warm as he shivered from the cold – or from fever. More than likely from fever.

But from there the memories were jumbled … mixed up with a dream he'd had, the one with Ramon that had been so … so _strange_. He needed to sit down, quietly, and try to sort things out. It was disturbing to have his head in a whirl like this.

The coffee was done. He poured a cup and doctored it up … then went into the bedroom, mug in hand, to find his cell phone. It was plugged in, charging. He picked it up, pressed the button to turn it on, and his eyebrows went up. So many messages! What had happened?!

Five minutes later Ichigo was changed and on his way to 3C.

XXX

He raced up the stairs, heart in his throat. Szayel-san! He had to be okay, he _had_ to be. He hurried down the 3rd floor hallway to the nurse's station, but the only person there was the unit clerk. "Hey, Miki … who's the nurse in 313 tonight?"

Miki looked up, her expression blank. "It's Rikichi, like all Saturdays, Kurosake," she said. Miki was a tsundere from the word go. Her heart was soft and gooey like a caramel left out in the sun, but her exterior was grouchy and tart, quick to frown and grumble.

"Where is he?"

"Not my turn to watch him, Strawberry," Miki grouched, but then she relented. "He's in 313 … hasn't hardly been out here at all. And Orihime has been in since early, so she let the charge go home. She's in there too. Now run along! I'm very busy and important." She turned back to her computer screen, but not before he saw her face change. What? He couldn't wait, though, he had to see Szayel-san!

"Thanks, Miki," Ichigo gasped as he took off down the hall. The door to 313 was open, so he entered, skidding to a stop just past the threshold. He froze as his eyes registered the scene before him: they were gathered around Szayel's bed, Rikichi, Grimmjow, his parents, two orderlies … the family members were crying, Mrs. Granz held in her husband's arms … even Grimmjow had the tracks of tears on his cheeks …. No. No! He – he couldn't be! Ichigo clutched the doorframe to steady himself as his head swam alarmingly.

"Excuse me, Kurosaki-kun," came a low voice behind him, and Ichigo started in surprise. He turned and saw Byakuya-sensei behind him, so he stumbled to the side so the doctor could enter. Ichigo followed him, steeling himself, not wanting to look at the bed, not wanting to see, no, no!

"Ichigo, you're not on duty tonight, are you?" Ichigo barely registered Rikichi's voice as the young nurse hurried up to him.

"N-no," Ichigo stammered. "I … I got my phone messages and had to come in. What … what happened?"

"Yeah, we've been trying to call you. All day! Are … are you okay?" Rikichi looked up at him, the tattoo over his left eye raising with his eyebrows.

"I – I got sick at the temple … I left my phone … Rikichi, what happened?" He stared at the young black-haired nurse, willing him to—

"So … this must be … the famous Ichigo-chan," a weak voice said from the bed. "Finally." The voice, unfamiliar, laughed weakly.

Ichigo looked … and his heart leapt up into his throat. Pink hair splayed across the pillow. But that wasn't what capture his attention and made him feel like he'd burst with joy. Awake … Szayel-san was _awake_! He almost ran to the side of the bed, staring, a huge grin blooming on his face. "Szayel-san!" He reached out and grabbed the man's hand where it lay next to him on the bed. Grimmjow was holding the other hand. "How … what …." He couldn't continue. Tears threatened, welled up in his eyes.

"Your constant … chattering," Szayel joked weakly. "I had to … wake up so I could … tell you to shut … the hell up." A smile creased his face. Chuckles from Grimmjow and Mr. Granz, the orderlies, too.

"He came out of it after the cardiac cath," Byakuya said from Ichigo's right side. "Just woke up like a regular cath patient would. It was … surprising, to say the least." He gave his typical tiny smile as he looked at Szayel's parents.

Relief had flooded over Ichigo in a wave. He clutched the pink-haired man's hand, grinning down at him. He couldn't speak for a few moments, but finally he found his voice and said, "Granz-san … welcome back."

"What happened … to first names … Ichigo-chan?" the man said, still obviously very weak. He was pale, too.

"Sorry. Szayel-san. Welcome back." Ichigo tore his gaze away and grinned at Grimmjow and his parents. "You've made everyone _very_ happy."

"Took you long enough, ass-wipe," Grimmjow grumbled, his tear-tracked face belying the grouchy attitude. He held up his brother's hand and squeezed it, pressed it to his heart. "I'm getting' damn sick of this hospital food." He smiled down at his brother.

"I … can't wait to _try_ … the hospital food," Szayel joked, and everyone laughed – even Kuchiki-sensei chuckled softly.

"Your Jell-O will be up shortly, Granz-san," Rikichi said, and everyone laughed again.

"J-Jell-O … sounds like … _heaven_," the recently-awakened man said, and then his eyes slowly began to drift shut.

"I think that's all the visiting for tonight," Byakuya said in a soft voice, reasserting his position as the patient's doctor. "Mr. and Mrs. Granz, if you will come with me? We need to discuss the rest of Szayel-san's treatment, his movement to another ward, and his rehabilitation." They kissed their sons goodbye and followed the doctor out of the room. Ichigo knew that Sensei would take them to a conference room so they could talk in private. The orderlies followed them out, after taking their leave and exacting Rikichi's promise to call them if he needed them.

"I'm stayin'," Grimmjow said, glaring at Rikichi and Ichigo in turn.

"As long as you don't bother the patient while he's trying to rest, that's fine, Jaegerjaques-san," Rikichi said quietly, pulling Szayel's blanket up to his chin. "Ichigo? Could you stay for a few minutes? I need to do some stuff with Shinji-san."

"Sure, Rikichi," Ichigo whispered. "Take all the time you want." He could hardly take his eyes off Szayel's sleeping face.

Rikichi smiled and patted Szayel's arm very softly, then pattered his way across the ward to disappear behind Shinji's screen. Ichigo stared down at Szayel, then looked up at Grimmjow on the other side of the bed. Grimmjow, seeing the movement, pulled his eyes away from his brother's face and looked at Ichigo, grinning widely. His face opened up and practically _glowed_, his happiness so obviously apparent that Ichigo felt like shielding his eyes.

"You never doubted it, did you," he whispered to Ichigo, still lightly holding his brother's hand.

"Not once," Ichigo said, very quietly. "I can't work any other way." He smiled back, relief and happiness on his face.

"And you were right," Grimmjow said, glancing back at his brother again. He paused for a bit, then said, "When I got that phone call this morning at the temple, I thought my head was gonna fuckin' explode. My brother – a heart attack! I thought he was a goner for sure. I never in a million years woulda thought that it'd be what woke him up."

"Shh," Ichigo hushed, reminding him to stay quiet. "Sometimes it just happens that way. We still don't know enough about the mechanism of coma. But I'm so glad for you – and your parents, too, of course. This is the best thing that could possibly happen." They grinned at each other like idiots.

Some moments passed, wherein Grimmjow just stared down at his sleeping brother and Ichigo checked out the monitor readings. A strong steady heartbeat … excellent blood pressure … slow, even breathing … small temp, but that was okay. He looked back at Grimmjow to see the other man watching him.

"How about you? You feelin' all right now?" the bluenet whispered.

"Yeah," Ichigo said, embarrassed, scratching his jaw with his free hand. "Thanks for, y'know, for taking care of me like you did."

"Oh-ho-ho," Grimmjow leered. "It was my pleasure. _Trust me_."

Ichigo blushed, he could feel the heat in his face. Grimmjow grinned at him. "I – I'm not sure what you … I mean … my fever, I'm not sure what …."

"I can tell you what happened, every detail, whenever you want," Grimmjow whispered. "I'll refresh your memory. Just know this – it wasn't no fuckin' fever dream." He laughed softly at Ichigo's expression.

Between them, feigning sleep, Szayel had no trouble staying motionless. He wanted to open his eyes and see what was going on with these two, but he didn't. The weakness made that easy. _Interesting_, he thought, only slightly agitated. Oh, he wasn't having any trouble at all with Grimmjow moving on. Not at all. The … thing … between them had ended long ago, and they were merely brothers now. Close, yes. But that was all.

But he clearly remembered the nurse's hands … those warm, loving hands. He remembered his careful way of handling him, of cleaning him, taking such excellent care of him. And he remembered his voice. That mellow, slightly rough voice, calming him … coaching him … coaxing him back to wakefulness. He remembered it very clearly. The voice that belonged to the orange-haired man standing at his bedside right now. The one getting mildly sexually harassed by his brother. Ichigo Kurosake. He remembered Ichigo's voice, oh, yes. Especially toward the end, here lately.

"_I love you Szayel-san," _he had said_. _

XXX

**End Chapter 13**

**Uh-oh … what the hell now, Ichigo? Oh what a tangled web we weave, indeed! Although our poor Ichigo doesn't /try/ to deceive.**

**Hope the medical stuff didn't overwhelm anyone. I try to explain to make it easier, ie: not making ppl check Google in order to understand. Lol**

**More coming soon! **

**Ahvienda**


	14. Chapter 14 Aftermath

**Chapter 14 – Aftermath**

**Just some foul language this time. Adult situations. **

**Ahvienda no own nada. At least, nothing Bleach.**

"Sorry … but I don't go for little girly-lookin' guys," Grimmjow muttered, frowning down at the tiny black-haired nurse. What was his name? Loopy or Schluppy or something like that. Whatever. He took hold of the man's arms – not painfully, just hard enough to get a good grip – and picked him up, set him back down on his feet at arm's reach. "Keep yer distance, Lippy."

"It's Luppi," the little dark-haired guy corrected, still looking up into Grimmjow's face with avid fascination.

"Uh-huh," Grimm grunted, not interested. He'd just come up here for a smoke, after being practically chased out of Szayel's room so that they could do some tests … EEG, EKG, E-fucking-G, whatever … his brother needed to lay still and not talk. So Grimmjow had taken the opportunity to come up to the roof for a cig or two. He'd noticed that someone else was up here, so he'd purposefully walked to the opposite side of the roof, for privacy. It hadn't lasted long.

"Grimmjow-san …."

God, wouldn't this little fucker shut up and let him just stand up here and enjoy his cigarette, think his thoughts? Apparently not.

"Grimmjow-san, you don't know what you're missing. I could hoover the hell out of you, right here, right now. Sort-of a celebration blow-job now that your brother is awake. No strings attached … but I'll bet that you'll want more than that," Luppi continued, smiling with moist lips and shining eyes.

Grimmjow snorted rude laughter. "You'll bet, huh? Lippy, you know nothin' about me." He brought the cigarette up to his lips again, sucked in smoke, blew it out. Standing there in the hospital slippers, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his hair in an unruly blue mess – hell, he knew he looked good, in that dangerous way that some men could never pull off but that was second nature to Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. Add in the harsh almost-gravelly voice, the sneer on his face … and there were some guys who just couldn't resist. Grimm guessed Lippy was in that group. Obviously.

"But I _want_ to know more," Luppi returned.

"Too fuckin' bad," Grimm said mildly. He turned away and rested his elbows on the balustrade that ran all the way around the roof of the building. The wind blew his hair off his face, blew smoke back over his shoulder as he took another drag. Smoke leaked out of his mouth as he said, "I know plenty about _you_, Tiny," he said, a crooked smile on his lips. "I think maybe the word 'slut' covers it pretty nicely." His tone was still mild, conversational.

Luppi giggled. "Well … yeah," he conceded. "I guess you _could_ look at it that way. I like men. I like sex. I'm young and cute, and I see no reason not to celebrate those things, now while I still can, ne?" He'd sidled up next to Grimmjow, standing next to him at the roof's edge, looking out at the city where it stretched out in front of them. "We get old soon enough … and I don't want to have any regrets. One of these days I'll find someone special and settle down with them – hopefully forever – but that time is not now." He looked back up at Grimm again. "You don't seem like the 'settled-down' type, either, Grimmjow-san. So what is wrong with it? I'm disease-free, willing … and very skilled."

"Yeah, I'll bet you are," Grimm muttered, taking another drag.

"You don't have to bet," Luppi offered. "I can prove it. If it's the setting that bothers you, we can always go somewhere else."

Slowly, Grimmjow turned his head to look down at Luppi. "Look, man … I don't know how to make it any plainer. I said it first thing, and it's not anything you can do somethin' about: I _don't_ go for little girly-lookin' guys. Ya fuckin' understand it this time around?" His voice was still mild, even when the curse word slid out. He was frowning, but it was his normal frown, nothing thunderous or threatening. Not yet, anyway.

Luppi sighed, heavily and loudly. "Well, darn," he said. "I don't suppose you could just close your eyes?" He smiled as he looked up at the uber-attractive blue-haired man standing next to him. _Gawd_. He was gorgeous!

Grimm grinned back at him.

Luppi's eyes widened. _Oh shit_, he thought. _This guy takes 'dangerous' to an entirely new level_. Just by baring his teeth his face seemed to take on a … a sort-of menacing lunacy. It was hotter than fuck!

"I don't close my eyes when I'm doin' it," Grimmjow said. "I like to watch. I like to see _everything_." His voice lowered on the last word, came out with a sexy grindy undertone.

One that made goose bumps race crazily up Luppi's spine. He shuddered visibly as heat flooded his core and a blush crept slowly up his neck. "You … what are you doing?" he asked, voice almost a whisper.

Grimmjow dropped the grin and turned back to face the view. "Just playin' with ya, Lippy … come on, Nurse-san, drop the cutesy act and tell me 'bout what's gonna happen with my bro now." He imagined the little guy was pretty successful with his persona as a rule – plenty of semes out there liked 'em girlish and small. Just not _this_ guy.

Expelling his breath in a whoosh, Luppi looked out at the view, too. "Fine, fine. Gimme a cigarette, ya big blue ox, if I don't get some nicotine soon I'm gonna bite somebody," he growled, holding out his hand.

Chuckling, Grimm flicked one out of his pack and handed over his lighter. Luppi lit up and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke back out with a satisfied sigh. "That's better. Okay … your brother has waked up but there's no way to know right now if it's a permanent thing. It's happened before – people wake up and are with us for a day, a week, but then succumb to the coma again. Don't think that'll happen with Szayel-san, though, since his coma was related to some chemical problems that we've resolved."

Grimmjow wasn't chuckling any more. "Shit," he muttered.

"I just fuckin' said we don't think that'll happen, shithead … listen for gods' sakes." Once Luppi was no longer 'on the prowl', his normal demeanor came out. In spades. "They'll make sure he's clean – he was quite the _doper_, ya know – and monitor his thyroid levels to make sure things don't get totally weird again. They took out that pituitary tumor, so that should be a done deal, too."

"Yeah."

"So we'll keep him on 3C until it's obvious that he's out of the woods, coma-wise, even though relapse is a slim-to-none chance, Kuchiki-sensei is conservative in that regard and will wait a few days. During that time he'll be evaluated to see if he needs any physical therapy, see if he has any deficits related to his coma. After that, he'll be moved out to a regular floor. Depending on how he does there, he could be outta here in a few weeks. Now … ain't that good news?" He leaked smoke out between his teeth as he grinned sharkishly up at Grimmjow.

Grimm flashed him a look and rolled his eyes a bit, but said, "It _is_ good news. Thanks."

"Yer welcome," grouched the little nurse, taking another drag. "Shit, I gotta get back downstairs." He ground the cigarette out under his heel and took out a little spray bottle from his lab coat pocket. He spritzed himself – a light fresh scent reached Grimm's nostrils – and then retrieved a mint from his other pocket and popped it into his mouth. "See ya later."

"I'll be back down in a bit," Grimm said.

"Yeah." Luppi started to walk away, then turned back around, grinning. "Hey … what about your brother? That pink hair turns me on. Think he'd wanna do the nasty with me?"

"He's …." What was he? Did Grimmjow even know any more? He wasn't entirely sure, they didn't talk about their love lives at all … it was too close to the taboo subject of their previous relationship. "Last I knew, he was a bottom."

"So? I can put it to him, too, I don't care." Luppi made thrusting motions with his hips.

Grimmjow couldn't help it, he laughed. "You are _so_ fucked up," he said, shaking his head.

"Fucked up, fucked down, fucked sideways … I'm game."

"I can see that."

"Oh, you wanna watch?"

"You … get yer fuckin' ass back downstairs and take care of my brother. Like a nurse! Take care of him like a nurse, you little bastard." He was laughing again.

"My mom wouldn't be very happy to hear you say that," Luppi returned, keeping up his excellent track record of having the last word. With that, he was gone.

Grimmjow shook his head again and barked laughter as he turned back around. He finished his cigarette, thinking about Szayel and his future. Grimm'd have to stick around for a while, make sure Zay stayed off the drugs. Maybe he should talk to Tall-Dark-and-Handsome-Sensei (this thought was accompanied by no small amount of sarcasm) about getting his brother some rehab or addiction counseling. Prolly be a good idea.

It was really good news about the chances of relapse … Jesus Effiing Christ, he didn't know what he would do if Zay slipped back into a coma. His folks would probably _both_ end up in the cath lab. He watched a bullet train slide toward Karakura Town from up-country, just a few miles away from the hospital complex, and the sleek vehicle made him think about his company … and then about the family.

Shit. He needed to contact the families, let everyone know what was going on. Nelliel especially, she'd been taking care of his company for him, and had told him to take his time, that everything was fine and would _stay_ fine … but he didn't like owing people anything, not even family, not even a close cousin like Nel. He couldn't leave yet, though, and it was looking like he'd need to stay in Karakura for another month at the least. Okay. He had some time right now, might as well get the news about Szayel out to the rest of the clan.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, then chose Nel's number. What time was it in Germany right now? He looked at the phone's time display. Morning. That was fine. He'd get her at work and she could pass the good news along to the rest of the family. It rang. She picked up fast.

"_Grimmjow? What? Why are you calling? Is everything all right?"_

"Nelliel – Nellie, sit down." He didn't wait, he couldn't wait to say it. "He's awake!"

"_OH MY GOD!" _She immediately started crying, tears of joy this time. It made Grimm get all misty, too. It was so great to pass along _good_ news for a change.

XXX

After Rikichi had finished with Shinji-san and sat down at the nurse's desk to chart, Ichigo had taken his leave of his newly-awakened beloved. Szayel-san had looked at him with those golden eyes and smiled. Ichigo's heart had pounded in his chest as he smiled back. He leaned in close to Szayel and said quietly, "Szayel-san … I am so glad. I'm just … I'm just so glad."

"Ichigo-kun," the man had said, just as quietly. "We need … to talk."

"Yes."

"I … heard some things. I remember … some things," Szayel said hesitantly.

"Yes." Without hesitation.

Szayel stared up at the younger man, who was looking down into his eyes, his expression one of quiet joy and affection. His gaze never wavered. It knocked Zay back for a second, that calm acceptance and warmth. "When? I … I …." His voice ground to a stop, his throat worked as he swallowed convulsively.

"It's all right, Szayel-san. Be calm. We will talk whenever you like," Ichigo said. "They won't let you have a cell phone for a while, but when it's approved I'll give you my number. And we can talk later on tonight, when I come back on shift." All this was said quietly, just between the two of them. Ichigo had one calming hand on Szayel's chest, the other on his shoulder.

Zay's head fell back against the pillows, although he didn't take his eyes from Ichigo's face.

"Relax. Be calm and still," Ichigo said soothingly. "Don't worry about anything. We're all here for you."

"Y-yes." Szayel took a deep breath, let it out shakily.

"Good."

Ichigo smiled again, patted Szayel-san's shoulder. "Now … the techs are coming to do some tests. They won't work you too hard, but if you become weary, please tell them so. There's no prize for getting these tests done early." He grinned.

"Okay," Szayel said, nodding.

"I'll see you tonight. I'll be back at about 11:00."

"If I'm asleep … wake me," Szayel said, staring up into Ichigo's eyes.

"I can't do that, Szayel-san … normal sleep is when we heal. But I'll be here all night. Don't worry, we _will_ talk." He patted the older man's chest, then straightened up. "Rest. They will be here soon with the EEG machine."

Szayel obediently closed his eyes.

Ichigo said his goodbyes to Shinji and Rikichi, then headed home. He didn't see Grimmjow again as he left the facility. When he called him, the regular Saturday night midshift nurse was more than happy to do a trade with Ichigo for tonight. Now he _had_ to get home and get some shut-eye.

XXX

He was practically undressing as he walked in the door, showered quickly, and fell into bed. Too excited to sleep for a long while, it was almost 5 p.m. before his eyes closed and stayed closed. He didn't dream – none that he remembered, anyway. When the alarm woke him at 10:00, he was disoriented for a minute, but then sprang up out of bed. He only had a half-hour before he'd have to catch the train. He threw burritos into the microwave, ran through the shower, ate as he dressed, and brushed his teeth. He frowned at his hair in the mirror. Oh well. It would have to do, he had to go!

On the train he thought about Hayato and Ulquiorra, for some reason. Hayato – he'd been such a wonderful, caring man. The time they'd had together after Hayato-san had awakened … those were some of the best months of Ichigo's life. Ulquiorra, his quiet sleeping face, with the deep green tattoos streaking down his cheeks, his soft black hair, his sweet frowning eyebrows. Ichigo leaned his head against the window and stared unseeingly out at the passing city. He thought about them all, letting their faces pass before his mind's eye, one after the other. A little smile was on his lips. _You won't be seeing Szayel-san any time soon, my loves_, he thought.

A tickle of memory. 'We don't want to see Shinji-san any time soon.' Ichigo closed his eyes, chasing the memory. Who? Who had said this? No-one knew about his deceased beloveds, no-one. Even the living, like Shuuhei or Starrk … they didn't know, had no idea that Ichigo carried a shrine around in his heart.

So then who.

"DOWNTOWN, NEXT THREE STOPS. DOWNTOWN, NEXT THREE STOPS."

The voice broke his concentration, and the memory slipped away. It had been right on the tip of his tongue, too. Dammit! He sat up straight, smoothed his scrubs over his thighs. WE don't want to see Shinji. _We_ don't. Put that way … it would lead one to believe … he frowned and gave his head a slight shake. Ridiculous.

XXX

In the locker room, a few late-nighters yawned and quietly got ready for their shifts. Ichigo didn't even try to tame his hair, that was a lost cause. He grimaced at the bright orange spikes and then shut his locker door. He slid his stethoscope around his neck and tucked his cell phone into his pocket. Wallet into the back pocket of his scrub pants, in order to get some 'lunch' later.

Luppi met Ichigo for report. "Surprised to see you here, Strawberry," he said. But his eyes reflected the very real glee he felt at the fact that a patient from their room had awakened.

"I traded," Ichigo said. "How's he doin'?" No doubt who he was talking about. He took a seat at the little round table as he asked.

"He's been asleep since supper," Luppi said. "He had a nap after the tests were done, they really wiped him out! He ate well …." He checked his notepad. "Chicken broth, apple juice, two servings of grape gelatin, two grape popsicles. Been drinking, too, mostly ginger ale and iced tea, no sugar." He turned the page. "Output is good, using a urinal, no difficulty. 725 mLs so far today. Helped him brush his teeth and shave. He watched the news, only about 20 minutes, though, before falling asleep."

"Did they get all the tests done?" Ichigo was listening intently.

"Yep. More tomorrow, you know, but they managed to get everything they needed today. Results from the EEG and EKG due in tomorrow … but his labs are unchanged. I look for them to start reflecting his eating habits again tomorrow, though."

"Yeah," Ichigo agreed, looking at the long list of lab results.

"Vitals within normal limits, including temp." Luppi went on down his extensive list, covering everything Ichigo would need to know. Then he moved on to Shinji and did much the same thing, although the small blond still slept his "deep sleep". "He's verbalizing still, no changes there that I could tell. Still mostly p's, still no regular intervals, no pattern. No EEG changes."

"Thanks, Luppi." Ichigo couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Look at you … grinning like a monkey. You're just happy because we'll have an empty bed in our room, you fucker." But Luppi was smiling too.

"Well, that was my favorite bed for ignoring my patients and sleeping, dammit. I'll be glad when that slacker is gone," Ichigo said, smiling again when Luppi cracked up.

"Riiight. Okay, stop delaying me, you piece of shit, I've got a date," Luppi said, getting up and gathering up his things. "But how come you didn't bring me any Danish tonight? What the hell's your problem? You can't just bring it once, feed me, and then stop. That's just cruel."

"I had burritos tonight."

"Oh, _terrific_! Well, don't fart all over the room, shitheel, remember our patients are relying on us for clean air!" Luppi finished packing his pockets with his stuff.

"THIS from the guy who reeks from cologne every night! Don't lecture me when you smell like a French whorehouse!" Ichigo stood up too, pressing his lips together to hide a smile.

"I smell _great_, you ass! What's your scent, baby shampoo? Puh-lease! Can we grow up and start smelling like a man one of these days?!" Luppi faux-glared up at him.

"No way! You'd be all over me!" Fake horror on Ichigo's face.

"It'll be a frigid day in Hades before that happens, you unlucky prick," Luppi said. "Now like I said, stop delaying me. Your come-on is too hideously obvious."

"It's not a come-on, it's a stroke."

"Bye, Ichigo. Take care of Pink Hair-san." He grinned.

"Bye, Luppi. Thanks."

"Yep!" He was gone.

XXX

It was quite the picture that met Ichigo's gaze when he walked into room 313. He checked Shinji first … the blond was on his left side, pillows bolstering his position, his eyes were closed and he was not verbalizing. The O2 mask was fitted loosely on his face, giving him a break from the nasal prongs. 1 liter oxygen boost … that was good. Soon, hopefully soon he wouldn't need the oxygen at all. Ichigo would be glad.

But on the other bed … Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was curled up alongside Szayel-san, sleeping on top of the covers, fully clothed. Ichigo stood still and looked at them, hands on his hips, smiling. They looked absolutely nothing alike … but then again, they weren't blood-related. Blue hair lay right alongside pink, making for a very compelling color combination.

Ichigo came closer, looking at Szayel-san's monitors. Very nice. He wouldn't disturb the newly-awakened patient, not until later when he'd need to take his oral meds. And that wasn't until 6 a.m. Any meds he'd need overnight would be injected straight into his IV. Ichigo observed Szayel's hair and skin, counted his breaths, watched his chest rise and fall to make sure he wasn't laboring to breathe. All was well. He turned away, went to the nurse's desk to pull up the shift reports from Friday and today.

It was roughly 1 a.m. when he heard a sound and looked over at his patients. Grimmjow was slowly leaving the bed, careful not to wake his brother. Once clear and on his feet, he stretched silently, then shook his head savagely and looked over at Ichigo, scratching his tummy idly. A grin spread slowly across his face. He padded over to the nurse's desk, barefooted, and then leaned on it, yawning.

"He's doin' good," the big man said, quietly.

"Yeah," Ichigo whispered. He couldn't help but smile as his gaze slid past Grimmjow to where his brother still slept.

"Nurse Lippy said he probably won't slip back into a coma … you on board with that theory?" Grimmjow was looking at his brother, too.

Lippy? Oh, Luppi! Ichigo had a hard time not laughing out loud at that. He couldn't wait to call Luppi that the next time during report. "Yeah," he whispered again. "His coma wasn't like that. We've straightened out his chemical imbalance and the drugs are out of his system. We're very optimistic. Very. Even Sensei."

"Good." Grimm straightened up, stretched again. "Gotta piss. Be right back." He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, scratching his belly again and yawning.

Ichigo shook his head, smiling ruefully, and glanced over at Szayel, who hadn't moved. He returned his attention to the chart again until Grimmjow came back out, shirtless. Ichigo swallowed and averted his eyes.

"When you get break?"

"Still have an hour to go," Ichigo said.

"Well, I need a fuckin' cigarette now, so I'm gonna go up for a bit. You got my cell number, yeah?" Grimmjow slipped a jacket on over his bare chest.

"Yes. I'll call if anything happens or changes."

Grimm started to walk out but then turned back around. "Hey … that other guy. He getting' ready ta wake up? He makes sounds. Freaks me out sometimes."

"We hope so."

"Yeah." He looked over at Shinji's bed, partially hidden by the screens. "Yeah. Okay, well. I'll be back in a bit."

Ichigo watched him slide into those crazy fuzzy pink slippers and quietly go out the door. He got up and checked on Shinji-san, moving him onto his back again and arranging his arms in comfortable positions, straightening his legs, making sure his tubes weren't binding anywhere. He started up his parenteral nutrition, letting the vitamin and mineral-rich, calorie-laden fluid seep down his PEG tube straight into his stomach. He changed that dressing, noting that it still showed no signs of infection – no redness, no fluid seeping out. He patted the small blond's arm and brushed his soft hair out of his face. "It's me, Shinji-san," he said quietly. "You look good." No response, but then he didn't expect any.

When he turned and walked around the screens, he saw that Szayel-san was struggling to sit up. "Whoa, whoa," he said, hurrying over. "Here … let me help you." He did so, and elevated the head of the bed, fluffing the pillows and making sure Szayel-san didn't have to strain to lift his head. "There. That better?"

The pink-haired man nodded, watching Ichigo.

"Want something to drink?"

Another nod. "T-tea … please."

"Just a sec." Ichigo hurried to fulfill his patient's wishes, returning with a tall glass, clinking with ice, bendy straw ready for parched lips. Szayel-san drank deeply, swallowing smoothly, Ichigo noted. "Take it slowly," he cautioned. "I don't want you coughing just yet." The increase in cranial pressure related to coughing was contra-indicated at this early wake-up stage.

Finally Szayel let go of the straw, closing his eyes in relief. "Good," he said.

"Your heart is doing _excellent_," Ichigo said, smiling. "Wanted you to know that, in case you were worrying about it."

"Heart attack," Szayel-san stated.

"Yes."

Szayel rolled his eyes. "T-too young," he said.

"No more drugs," Ichigo said, but without any reproach in his voice. It was just the stark truth. "No more cigarettes."

"Yes."

"Good. Hungry?"

"No. Th-thank you." Szayel watched Ichigo's every move. The orange-haired man straightened his blankets, set the glass of tea within easy reach, and then sat down on the side of his bed. "Gr-Grimmjow?"

"Up on the roof," Ichigo said.

"Nn," Zay grunted. Probably smoking. No more of that for _him_. Ever. He'd better get used to the idea.

Ichigo was looking at him expectantly. "You said you wanted to talk with me about something, Szayel-san." The room was so quiet. Only the softly beeping monitors broke the silence. Soft light glowed from the lights over the beds, a small pool of it from the tiny table lamp on the nurse's desk. Otherwise, all was quiet and dark.

"Yes. You … when I was sleeping. C-comatose."

"Yes?"

"I heard you. Felt you, sometimes. Talking … to me sometimes." Szayel was irritated that he needed to pause when he spoke. That he stuttered sometimes. It was aggravating.

"I've been your nightshift nurse from the beginning, Szayel-san. And I always talk to my patients. I've always believed that, sometimes, they can hear me. I'm glad _you_ could," Ichigo added, smiling.

"Heard you. What you said." They were staring at each other. Szayel because he needed to _know_.

"That's good," Ichigo said. "What was it that I said that you want to ask about?"

"You said … you loved me." Pink spots appeared on Szayel-san's cheeks.

_Cute_, Ichigo thought. _Ah, Szayel-san, you are so cute_. He smiled. "You shouldn't use past tense," he said, like he'd said to Shuu not all that long ago.

Szayel had a puzzled look on his face now.

"I love you. Not _loved_."

Szayel opened his mouth to reply, a slightly-awed look on his face, a tremulous smile was making his lips twitch … but the door opened behind them. A shadow was all they could see, the light from the hall backlighting Grimmjow as he re-entered the room.

"Bro," he said softly, letting the door slip shut as he let it go and walked into the room. "You're awake again." He grinned at his brother as he approached the bed, reached out and grabbed his hand. Too late he picked up a weird vibe from the pair – Szayel looked embarrassed, Ichigo was watching him with affection, sitting on his bed.

"Welcome back, Grimmjow-san," Ichigo said. "We were just having a little chat. Szayel-san, let me go refill your tea. I'll be back later." He patted his patient's hand, squeezed it, and picked up the glass, getting up off the bed and walking quietly out the door.

Szayel looked at his brother. His big, beautiful brother. He decided not to say anything to Grimm about Ichigo. He wasn't sure why, but he felt that it would be wrong somehow, especially since he still needed to finish talking with Ichigo. _He said he loves me_, the pink-haired man thought to himself. He smiled.

"You look good," Grimm said, sitting on the side of his bed the way Ichigo had. "Better than I've seen ya since ya woke up. You've got some color, or somethin'." His easy grin slid across his face again.

Szayel nodded, squeezing Grimmjow's hand. At one time, he'd been consumed by a painful, desperate, hopeless love for this man. It had slowly killed him inside, until he'd tried to take his own life in a last-ditch effort to stop it … because he didn't have the strength to stop it himself.

"I … I should have told you, before," he said, before he could stop himself. But if this was a new lease on life, then he was going to say all the things that needed to be said. He wasn't going to do anything halfway anymore. And he owed his brother an explanation from long, long ago.

"Hnn?" Grimmjow made this questioning noise as he frowned, but it was his puzzled frown. Szayel knew them all.

"Before. Before I tried to kill myself. I should have … talked with you." He had a death grip on Grimmjow's hand.

"That's a long time ago, Zay … you don't need to—"

"I do! _I do._ Not your fault. I was … too weak. Too weak to pull away. Grimm … I'm _sorry_. I'm so sorry." His eyes filled with helpless tears. He dashed them away, furious at showing weakness when he was trying to apologize for being weak. "Should have talked with you."

Grimmjow looked at his brother as this all sank in. He pressed his lips together in a tight line, nodded shortly. He stayed put, hanging on to Szayel's hand.

"Not your fault. Mine. It was mine. But you were strong … you left, so I wouldn't have to. So I could heal. So that the … temptation … was out of reach." He swallowed hard. Remembering those days was so difficult.

"I knew what ya needed, Zay. Me too. It's okay, brother. It worked. We're okay now, right?" Grimmjow squeezed Zay's hand again.

Szayel nodded, but he wasn't finished. "Need to say: thank you. Grimmjow. Thank you. And I love you, b-brother." He pushed himself up, reaching. Grimm made up the difference himself, wrapping both arms around his brother and holding on tight. No matter what had happened before, no matter the quasi-incestuous relationship they'd found themselves in before – this was his _brother_. And he loved him. He'd never apologize for that.

When Szayel pulled back, Grimm loosened his hold and let him back onto the pillows, gently. He looked at him worriedly, but Zay had a little smile on his lips. His eyelids were drooping. "You okay?" Grimmjow asked, softly, almost a growl.

Szayel chuckled weakly. "Never better," he said. "Not for a … long, long time." His eyelids fluttered shut, his breathing deepened and evened out. In seconds he was fast asleep.

Grimmjow watched him for a long time, thinking about the past, about the present, about the future. He held his brother's hand, rubbing it with his thumb. Motion caught his eye, from the right. Ichigo came into his field of vision, a tall glistening glass of iced tea in his hand. He sat it on the nightstand quietly, then backed off and went back to his desk.

Idly, Grimm wondered how much the oranget had heard. But then he decided that, ya know what? He didn't give a fuck. He looked down at his big brother, remembering when they were children, how Szayel had time for him when no-one else did … how Zay would explain things that no-one else could … how he had loved his big brother with all his heart. Right now, sleeping, he didn't look like he'd changed at all.

_If I could, I'd erase those years, the ones that almost killed you_, he thought, staring at his brother's face. But that was impossible. Instead, they'd separated until the attraction between them was dead. Until only the brotherly love remained. And it still burned just as brightly as it ever had. Grimmjow smiled down at his brother, then maneuvered his body until he was laying down next to him again. They had often slept together as children, Zay curled protectively around his little brother.

Now, Zay needed his comfort. It was his turn, his turn to repay the favor. Grimmjow turned on his side and put an arm around his sleeping sibling, then closed his eyes and counted Zay's breaths until he, too, was asleep.

XXX

Ichigo watched the sleeping men in the bed. Oh, he hadn't heard everything that they'd talked about after he'd left the room, but he'd heard some. Enough to know that there'd been trouble in their relationship years ago … such bad trouble that Szayel-san had tried to kill himself. Ichigo felt a stab in his heart when he thought about this. It was obviously years ago, but it was new to him – one of his beloveds had tried to take his own life.

Looking at them now, Szayel-san still with the ghost of a smile on his lips, it was obvious that the trouble was far in the past. That was good. He took a deep breath, then expelled it slowly. He closed his eyes, and picked out the breathing of his beloveds, listened to them as they slept soundly under his care.

He didn't know what Szayel-san had been going to say before he was interrupted. It didn't matter. Ichigo loved him. He would always tell him the truth about that. And he would always be there for him. Just as he was for the others.

Some might say, "It's only been a few weeks! How can you say you love him? That's ridiculous."

Those people didn't understand. They couldn't. Ichigo wouldn't try to explain. He could barely explain it to himself. The long hours, alone with his charges, caring for his beloveds, talking to them … how could anyone not love them? Their beautiful sleeping faces. The slow susurrations of their breaths, with or without the ventilators. He shared everything with them. Shared the long, lonely nights.

Oh, don't worry. There'd been plenty of times where Ichigo had wondered if there was something … wrong with him. Some indefinable something, a personality disorder, a defect, some missing piece. "Normal" people didn't do the things he did, they didn't act like him, they didn't have a list of beloveds, talking to the dead, giving whatever he had to the living. Anything. Everything. Whatever they _needed_.

Because that was the key. His beloveds needed him, as much as if not more than he needed them. Oh, not all of them. Ty, for example. He was one of Ichigo's beloveds that had awakened. They kept in touch, they talked on the phone, met for coffee and sweet rolls, caught up on each other's lives and talked about what had happened to Ty. But he was happy. Ty was married, had two children and a loving wife, and his happiness shone from his face, reverberated in his voice. Ichigo kept his love to himself, Ty didn't _need him_ in that way. He kept tabs on Ty's happiness, ready to do whatever was needed to keep him that way. That was how he loved Ty … from a distance, quietly, anonymously. It was fine. Ty's happiness made Ichigo happy.

The door opened behind him, and he turned around, a finger to his lips. It was Uryuu, time for his break. He walked up to the black-haired nurse, smiling. "They're all asleep," he said.

"Yeah. Good news today, Ichigo," Uryuu said, grinning.

"Yep. Take care of 'em for me. I'll be back in a bit."

"Take your time."

Ichigo left the room, a little smile on his lips. He was leaving his charges in good hands. He headed for the stairs so that he could go up on the roof. Have a couple cigarettes (bad … he should learn from Szayel's experience), look up at the stars, think about things. It had been a good day, all in all. Oh, sure, things had been kind of … weird at first, but the awakening of Szayel-san overshadowed all of that and made it inconsequential.

He looked up into the starry sky, scanning it for shooting stars. There was no moon. Relief flooded him, thinking about Szayel-san. No need to add a name to the list. Not this time. Not this time.

**End Chapter 14**

**Sometimes I think Ichigo's a total nutcase … and sometimes I think he's the only one who's got the right idea. I'll let you know if I ever figure it out. ;)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Ahvienda**


	15. Chapter 15 Intermission

**Chapter 15 – "Intermission"**

**Warnings: Language**

**I Declare: I am still in a state of non-ownership as far as Bleach is concerned.**

Szayelapporo Granz slowly rose to his feet, with the help of an orderly on each side, his arms trembling with effort as he gripped the arms of the wheelchair. He'd just come back from another round of PT and was feeling particularly weak this time. Instead of invigorating him, the hot whirlpool bath at the end always seemed to _drain_ him. The physical therapists assured him this was normal, especially since he was at the very beginning of his therapy.

Luckily, he didn't have many deficits related to being in the coma – and this was mostly because he'd not suffered traumatic brain injury _or _been in the coma for an extended period. His had been relatively short. And for that he was thankful. Thankful … that was a good word. Like right now, he was _very_ thankful to be getting back into his bed. He was thankful for the glistening glass of iced tea that was waiting for him on the bedside nightstand. He was thankful for the warm soft sheets, the fluffy pillows, the bowl of mixed nuts that stood next to his tea. His world had shrunk down to these few simple things, temporarily, at least … and he was grateful for all of it.

Szayel was thankful for all the little things. He was supremely thankful to just be _alive_. A coma followed by a heart attack … by all rights, his family should be planning his funeral. But instead, they were planning a family reunion when he left the hospital and was feeling up to it.

As soon as the orderlies had him tucked back into bed, they wheeled the chair out the door. Szayel reached out to the nightstand, picking up his glasses and putting them on. Then he carefully picked up the glass of iced tea (at his weakest two mornings ago, he'd dropped the damn thing and had been painfully embarrassed as a housekeeper cleaned up after him), and sucked blissfully on the straw. He could feel the cold liquid as it made its way down his esophagus and splashed into his stomach. Heaven. He drank deeply, then laid back and used the remote to turn on the personal TV that was on an extend-arm next to his bed. He picked up the headset and put it on, then leaned back and relaxed on the pillows.

The past few days, since his cath lab procedure and subsequent awakening, had been very very busy ones for Szayel. The small incision in his right groin was healing very nicely – the only visible physical reminder of his cardiac catheterization. But inside the arteries that served his heart, the little stents did their jobs and kept those arteries open. It was amazing, really – he'd watched some caths on the internet and had been properly impressed by the skill and innovation.

Tests and therapy. That was his daily routine. In the evenings he fell asleep while trying to stay awake until Ichigo-kun showed up … something that, so far, had turned out to be utterly impossible. They wore him out during the day and he slept like a stone at night. When he awoke in the mornings, Ichigo was already gone. Today, he decided, he was taking a nap so that he could wake back up later and stay awake until the orange-haired man came on shift. That was the plan, anyway. It had to work today … tomorrow they were moving him out of 3C and onto another floor.

He closed his eyes, the soft sounds of the TV in his ears becoming less and less distinct. Part one of the plan was in progress.

XXX

The doorbell was ringing. It woke Ichigo from a sound sleep. Blearily he glanced at the clock on his nightstand … 6:30 pm. It was set to wake him at 8 tonight, and he really wanted to have that last hour and a half of sleep. But what if something was happening at work? To Shinji or Szayel? What if it was one of his beloveds? The last thought had him moving. Wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, he padded quickly out of his bedroom, down the hall, and up to his front door. He peered out the peephole.

It was Kuchiki-sensei. Ichigo pressed his lips tightly together, thinking. He looked out again as Sensei pressed the doorbell again. What he saw made him unlock the door and open it about a foot, standing behind it and bending his upper body to peer around the edge. Sensei was wearing a t-shirt and black jeans. Ichigo had _never_ seen Sensei like this. Ever. "Sensei?" he asked. "Is … is something wrong?"

"Ichigo-kun," Byakuya said smoothly, nodding. "Yes, something is wrong. May I come in?"

"Of course," Ichigo said. "Please, come in and make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back," he said as he opened the door, gestured to the living room, and walked back to his bedroom – turning on a couple of lamps on the way.

Byakuya watched Ichigo walk away. He really did have an excellent body – tall, well-shaped, muscular but not bulky. Feeling an unwelcome and unfamiliar pang of regret, Byakuya pulled his eyes away and went into the living room. He sat down on the couch, leaning back and crossing his legs at the ankles, trying not to think about the last time he was on this couch. Damn.

Ichigo reappeared, now dressed in a pair of skater shorts and a sleeveless white t-shirt. "Would you like some coffee?" he asked as he walked into the kitchen area, turning on the small lamp on the counter.

"Yes, thank you," Byakuya replied, watching.

All Ichigo needed to do was hit the 'on' button, since the coffee maker was ready to go. He got out a couple of cups, sugar and some creamer, some spoons … and puttered around the kitchen until the coffee was ready for pouring. Then he brought everything into the living room and put it all on the coffee table in front of Sensei.

"I'll serve myself, Ichigo-kun, thank you," Byakuya said, leaning forward and doctoring his coffee as he spoke.

Ichigo did the same, quietly. They drank, the only sound in the room the sizzling sound the coffee maker made as it kept the coffee hot. The minutes ticked by, until Ichigo finally said, "What can I do for you, Sensei? You said … something was wrong?" He took another sip of coffee.

Byakuya held his mug in both hands, looking down at it. Then he said, "Yes. There is something wrong. There is something wrong with the way I treated you. I regret it. I regret that our budding relationship was sabotaged by my own fault. I regret that this has tainted our interactions – and I fear that it will cross over into our working relationship." He stopped, abruptly, sat motionless for a second or two, then lifted his cup to his lips again.

Ichigo stared at him. Nothing like getting right to the point! Sensei looked back at him as he lowered his cup, swallowing coffee, his gaze just as calm as it ever was, his handsome face almost expressionless. Almost. "What are you—"

"I am trying to say 'I'm sorry'," Byakuya interrupted. "I _am_ saying it. I am grievously sorry. My actions were rapacious and ill-considered. There is no excuse for it. I do not want you to think that it was because I held you so cheaply. I … I lost my way." He was silent for a moment, staring at the floor. "I was the one who behaved cheaply. I lost my way."

Ichigo was speechless. He was stricken, wide-eyed, staring at Sensei with worry written plain upon his face. What was going on here? He'd _never_ heard Sensei speak like this. Never. "Kuchiki-sensei," he said, rather hoarsely, "please stop. I … I understand. After such a long drought it's understandable if you dance in the rain."

A ghost of a smile. Byakuya said, wryly, "What a poetic way to put it. The reality, however, is much more tawdry."

"Don't dwell on it. People go to excess sometimes, it's part of being human," Ichigo said hurriedly. He was reaching for straws, now, this conversation was making him slightly uncomfortable and he didn't want to get any further into it. He – the king of 'unfaithfulness', some would say – lecturing Kuchiki-sensei? It was almost laughable. Almost.

"You're very understanding," Byakuya said quietly. "Thank you."

Ichigo nodded nervously. He slugged down the rest of his coffee, then stood up. "Need a refill?" he asked.

Byakuya nodded, too, and handed over his cup. He watched Ichigo move into the kitchen and busy himself with the coffee. He wasn't the best at reading other people, but he was getting the definite feeling that Ichigo … was out of his reach. He frowned. The head of the Kuchiki clan wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. But then he reigned in these feelings of entitlement and thought it through. He had caused the rift, himself. If Ichigo didn't want any more to do with him, it was his right.

He'd have to say it, though.

Ichigo came back into the living room and sat Byakuya's cup on the coffee table, settling himself on the couch, too. They each doctored their own cup again, then drank. Ichigo's nerves were cranking up with every second that passed. Finally Sensei spoke again.

"Ichigo-kun … I came here for another reason as well. I mean, not just to apologize … but to see if there was any way to rescue what we started. If there was any way to continue." He was looking at Ichigo with his customary calm, his gray eyes luminous in the lamplight.

_Gods. He is so handsome_, Ichigo thought, looking at him. But then he dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry, Sensei," he began. "Please don't think it's all because of your … relationship with Luppi. There are other reasons that—"

"Yes," Byakuya interrupted again. "I was uncaring and unfeeling on the day you went to visit your patient's grave. That was bad form on my part. I apologize for that as well."

Ichigo was starting to feel desperate. "No! That's not what I meant, Sensei." He rubbed his suddenly-sweaty palms on his shorts. Kuchiki-sensei was getting a little too close to the _real_ reason. Now that they were no longer going to have a relationship, it was no longer any of his business. Ichigo would not tell him.

A few seconds ticked past. "Ah," Byakuya said, nodding. "There is … someone else."

Ichigo practically collapsed with relief. Maybe it wasn't the literal truth, but it was close enough. And it was an 'out'. "I, I'm sorry … there is. S-sort-of. I mean … I'm sorry." _Several someones, in fact._

"No need to apologize," Byakuya said. "I understand. At least, I think I do." He drank some more coffee, names and faces offering themselves for consideration as Ichigo's new flame. No-one immediately sprang to mind. "I won't ask who it is, as that hardly matters. Instead, let me wish you well. And again offer my hopes that the unpleasantness between us does not bleed over into our work."

"Sensei," Ichigo began, looking the doctor right in the eyes, "For my part? – That will never happen. I respect you and your skills too much. You are the best doctor I have ever worked with, and I'm not just saying that to smooth things over. I mean it."

"Thank you," Byakuya murmured, lifting his cup.

Ichigo sensed it was time for sharing. If they were ending, even though it wasn't Ichigo's fault, it was timely since he had come to his recent realizations that he was sliding in too deeply with Kuchiki-sensei. "Sensei … I have always considered you to be the handsomest man of my acquaintance. And I have always f-fantasized about being with you. Even though this is not going to work out for us, I want to thank you for making that fantasy come true." He smiled, albeit nervously. "In spades."

The little smile quirked Byakuya's lips again. He saluted Ichigo with his coffee mug and shook his head ruefully. "Some lessons are especially difficult to learn. I will count this as one of them. But you are gracious and honest, and I will be the same. Maybe you didn't notice, but I, also, thought about _you_ in my more private moments. Although I mishandled the situation and used you abominably, I am glad you are a forgiving person … even though I cannot persuade you to forgive, forget, and fornicate."

Ichigo huffed laughter through his nose. "That's a good one, Sensei."

"Thank you."

XXX

After Sensei left, Ichigo made more coffee and had some breakfast. He took a shower and put on some dark brown scrubs, brushed his teeth and riffled his hair with some gel. Good enough. He went to the living room and sat down on the couch, reaching under the coffee table for his scrapbook. Laying it reverently on his lap, he ran a hand over the cover as he thought about Sensei's visit. They were done. He'd known it was coming sooner or later because he just couldn't commit to something like that while keeping the faith with his beloveds … but he certainly hadn't thought it would end the way it did.

At the same time, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It had needed to end and now it was done. He could concentrate on honoring his fallen dear ones and taking care of the living. It was enough.

Ichigo took a deep breath and opened the book. The first picture to meet his gaze was Kira, of course. Then Keigo, followed by Hayato. Then Ramon. And Yukihiro. He stared at their pictures and smiled sadly. The next one was David. David Sansobella died when he was 26 years old, in the middle bed in Ichigo's room. He had died in strange, extraordinary circumstances … and it was David's death that had finally woken up Ichigo to the fact that he was helpless when it came to loving his patients. That he had really and truly _loved_ David (and the others), even though the man had barely spoken ten words to him in his short life.

With the deaths of the beloveds that preceded David's, Ichigo had been miserable afterwards but hadn't really been able to figure out why it seemed to be hitting him _so_ hard. The other nurses and staff were upset but not to the depths of grief that had stricken Ichigo. With Hayato it had been different – he'd awakened and they'd begun a relationship that had led to love. At least, that's what Ichigo had _thought_. He cared for his patients, of course he did, and he'd thought he was using the word 'love' in that platonic, world-wide view of loving humanity: a nurse's love, a friend's love. He'd been wrong.

_David Sansobella was from the High City section of Salvador, Brazil. He had come to Karakura Town to play football (_A/N_ - _Americanese: soccer_) with the J-League, having been scouted during one of the nationals leading up to the World Cup. He was that good. He'd signed on with the Kashima X-Pulse and had been an instant favorite, with his good looks and big beautiful golden-brown eyes … not to mention his almost-magical skill with a football. He was tall for a footballer (especially in Japan), and he stood out. His long hair held back in a ponytail … his caramel-bronze skin … his chiseled muscles … his ready smile, white teeth flashing as he laughed. _

_Ichigo had been watching the match in which David had received the injury that would land him in the Coma Care Center. He'd watched with dismay as the crowd reacted … the gasp that was ripped from every throat as Sansobella was knocked sideways into the stands, the shouts that had erupted as he lay there, still, unmoving, until he was surrounded by the coaches, players, and medical personnel. He'd been carried from the field on a stretcher, unmoving, his neck in a brace and an oxygen mask on his face … and the match had continued._

_Three weeks later, Ichigo had a new patient in his room. David had been slammed into a row of seats after he flipped over the 'fence', headfirst. His head had been trapped between two seats as his body had continued to move, twisting and fracturing his cervical vertebrae, injuring his brain stem. _

_The man who arrived by ambulance to Ichigo's room that day looked nothing like the smiling football player. His hair had been shaved off for the craniotomy (brain surgery), his eyes were swollen shut, there was still residual bruising and swelling all over his face and neck. Purple and yellow, the bruises were healing, but slowly. He was intubated, the tube taped to one side of his mouth. (He was scheduled to have a tracheostomy the next day.) His eyelids had been taped shut for the trip. He was strapped to a backboard and still had a cervical collar in place._

_Carefully the EMTs and orderlies moved David into bed, settling him carefully, log-rolling him (so that the head does not move on the neck) off the backboard. Ichigo hooked him up to the monitor, hung his IV bags, arranged his limbs comfortably, and watched as Respiratory Therapy (RT) got him hooked up to the ventilator. Aizen-sensei was there as well, writing up orders and supervising the move-in. It took a while, especially when you consider the labs that had to be drawn and the admitting documents that needed to be taken care of. But it did finally all get done._

_David had been moved into the only empty bed in Ichigo's room. The other occupants were Hisagi Shuuhei, still sleeping his deep sleep, and Ulquiorra Schiffer, another fairly new arrival, he'd only been on the ward for two months. Both slept easily in their beds flanking the new arrival, Ulqui's respirator whooshing softly as it worked._

_Ichigo stood at the foot of David Sansobella's bed, looking at the "big picture". Straight limbs, monitor reading all right, ventilator showing good numbers, vital signs within low limits, foley catheter bag hanging off to one side of the bed with darkish yellow urine in the bag. Satisfied with that everything overt had been done, Ichigo walked around the side of the bed and approached the head. He leaned in closely, observing his patient's face. The bruising and swelling looked pitiful, painful. There was no movement, not even a twitch. All was quiet._

"_Sansobella-san," Ichigo said in a low voice. "My name is Ichigo. You have been moved to the Coma Care Center, and I am your night-shift nurse. I'm so sorry about what has happened to you." Slowly, carefully, he peeled the tape off David's eyelids. "I'm going to give you a bath in a little while, but for right now, I just want to look you over. Please excuse my familiarity." He was always formal, at first, with new patients._

_With exquisite care, he pulled down the blanket and opened David's gown, examining every inch of his patient's body, cataloging any and all marks, bruises, scars … everything, tattoos and birthmarks included. If it wasn't already on the chart they'd received from Tokyo General, he added it. It took a while, and he had to have help from the orderlies to log-roll David up on his side in order to examine his back, buttocks, etc. While there were there, Ichigo bathed David's back side as well._

_When they were gone, he continued giving his patient a very complete bath. He didn't know what conditions were like in Tokyo General, but it looked like someone had tried to take decent care of David. Of course, that person wasn't Ichigo Kurosake, though. When he got done, David was _clean_, including his mouth and ears, nostrils, fingernails … everything. _

_David Sansobella was in Ichigo's room for almost two full years. During that time, Shuu had awakened and been released. Flush with the success of Shuuhei, Ichigo was happily looking forward to the day when David and Ulqui would also awaken. He was constantly alert for signs of wakefulness in the two remaining patients. He was tireless in his physical therapy efforts with the two men. Neither would suffer any deterioration when they awoke, he'd make sure of it. _

_Renji watched Ichigo with worried eyes. He remembered how Ichigo had reacted after the murder of Keigo. He knew that Ichigo felt things deeply, and that he was on cloud nine after Shuuhei's successful reawakening and rehab. He was worried. Neither patient was showing any indication that they would ever wake up again. The only positive sign had been that David had been taken off the respirator. He breathed on his own with an oxygen boost, but no longer required the vent. But that didn't mean he was going to wake up. It just meant his brain stem had recovered from the battering it had taken._

_It was late. Ichigo was charting everything he'd done for his patients that night. He'd just come back from lunch and was feeling pretty good. About everything. Suddenly he stopped typing, head tilted, instantly alert. Had there been a sound? He waited, listening. No. Probably from outside, or in the hallway—_

"_Help." Very quietly. So softly that if Ichigo hadn't been really listening and if it hadn't been in between 'whooshes' of Ulqui's ventilator, he'd not have heard it. "Hhhelp."_

_He was up in a flash, at David's side. His eyes were open. One stared off, sightlessly, toward the upper lefthand corner of the room. The other, bloodshot, stared up at Ichigo when he rushed up._

"_David!" he shout-whispered, joy blooming in his heart. "David … you're awake! Welcome back, Sansobella-san."_

"_No. No." The eye stared up at Ichigo, not blinking. "Help. Can't. Move." The whispers were soft, gasping, hard to understand, and spoken so slowly. _

_Ichigo swallowed hard. He didn't want to lie to his patient. He'd come to care for the tall man who slept so soundly, his sweet sleeping face still handsome, watching over him night after night. Ichigo had watched some of David's old football matches and had been amazed by his skill, by his grace and utter beauty as he played. He looked down at that eye and said, slowly, "I'm sorry, Sansobella-san … your spinal cord was injured in your fall. Do you remember it?"_

"_Can't. Feel." Still that one horribly-bloodshot eye stared into Ichigo's._

"_Yes. Yes. I'm so sorry, David-san," Ichigo said, putting a hand on David's face where he _could_ feel. _

"_No. No." The eye closed. "No."_

"_Sansobella-san … it … it's good that you're awake. Rest easy … I'll call your doctor," Ichigo started to move away._

"_No. Wait." The eye was open again, fixed on him. "H-help."_

"_What do you need? Are you thirsty?"_

_David's golden-brown eye rolled upward, he blinked, and a tear slid from the outer corner. _

_Ichigo immediately felt ashamed. Thirsty? For gods' sakes. He leaned forward, contrite. "Forgive me, David. What can I do for you?"_

"_Help."_

"_Yes."_

"_Not. Like this. Not … like this." He stared at Ichigo, his face crumpling, wincing, a sob forced its way out. _

_Suddenly Ichigo was crying, too. "I'm so sorry. We'll do everything we can. We will. There are treatments … technology …." Ichigo's voice trailed off. He stared miserably at David, despair welling up inside. There was no way this man would ever be a football star again. No way in hell. He'd probably never even walk again. But … what was he asking for? Ichigo swallowed hard. "What … what do you want, David? I – I'll do anythi—"_

"_No. Hocko." His eye closed even as another tear leaked out of it. _

_Hocko? Ichigo tried to get more information out of David, but he couldn't or wouldn't respond. Ichigo wasn't even sure he should chart what happened, but of course he ended up doing so, minus what their conversation had entailed. Not word-for-word, anyway. Finally, he realized that "Hocko" was a name. Jaco. _

_It took three weeks and a _lot_ of research for Ichigo to find out who Jaco was. There was nothing else from David … despite EEG changes and repeated attempts by Ichigo and the other team members, he wouldn't speak again nor open his eyes. Ichigo was frantic with worry._

_Finally, he found Jaco. Also known as Jaoquim Carlito Azevedo … David's best friend for most of his life in Brazil. They'd parted ways when David left for college in Porto Alegre, keeping track through social media but not meeting in person since high school. Ichigo found him still living in Salvador. Their first conversation was stilted, having to be translated by Azevdeo-san's computer. Ichigo had no idea about Portuguese and "Jaco" had no idea about Japanese._

'_Senor Azevedo," the computer related to Jaco, "This is Kurosaki Ichigo, I am a nurse in Karakura, Japan. I have been caring for your friend, David Sansobella."_

"_Is he awake?" Jaco asked, his face serious and set._

_Ichigo was surprised. Very. "Er, yes. He … he's asking for you."_

_Jaco was nodding his head. In a pained voice, he said, "I wondered if this would happen. I'll be there as soon as I can." And he cut the connection. _

_Ichigo stared at the screen. He frowned. But there was nothing else to do but continue to take excellent care of his patients, and wait for Jaco-san to arrive._

_He was there within a week. Ichigo hovered worriedly in the background as Jaco-san approached David's bed. He was lying on his side, facing towards the windows. Soft scraping sounds as Jaco pulled a chair over to the side of the bed David was facing. He sat down. "David," he said softly. "I am here." This was in Portuguese, of course, but Ichigo got the gist of it. _

_A soft sigh from the bed. Then, "Jaco," very quietly, very relieved, almost joyful. _

_Jaco's eyes filled with tears as he looked at his friend. He reached out and grabbed up his friend's hand, clasping it tightly in his, holding it up so David could see. "I'm here," he repeated. "Like I promised. I am here, my friend." He smiled through his tears. _

_Ichigo assumed David was smiling back at him. He backed away, giving them privacy … although his internal alarm was going off. It could no longer be trusted, however, not after what happened with Keigo. He sat down at his desk, charting for all appearances … but he was listening. It was all too low for him to hear … and it was probably all in Portuguese, so it wouldn't have mattered._

_Jaco stayed for an hour, talking with his friend in low tones. Amazingly, Ichigo heard several soft bursts of laughter. Reliving their childhood escapades, he assumed. But the sound calmed him. Azevedo-san made his goodbyes with some uncomfortable bows. His eyes were red from weeping, but he was calm. He even gave a little smile when he clasped Ichigo's hands, thanking him. Then he was through the door and gone._

_Ichigo hurried to David-san's bed, his heart thudding in his chest. But David merely slept, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, the faintest of smiles on his face. Ichigo turned him back onto his back, very gently, and stroked his cheek. As far as he could tell, David looked happy. Ichigo's heart sang. Maybe this would give David the impetus to accept his limitations and go on to live a fulfilling life. He would help him. In any way that he could. "Rest now," he said quietly. "All is well, David."_

"_Si," David whispered, his good eye open a slit. "Ari. Gato." He gave the tiniest of smiles. And went back to sleep._

_It wasn't until two hours later that the alarms went off in Ichigo's room, signaling the asystole of David's heart. (A/N – remember? Asystole means no heartbeat.) In spite of the rapid response of the Code Team, there was no bringing David back. He died peacefully, in his sleep … slipping away quietly. Ichigo was late in sending him off with his blessing and best wishes for a happy afterlife, but he said the words anyway. David was one of the beloveds._

_It was over a week later that the letter arrived in Ichigo's mail. It was from Jaco. He apologized, explained their promise to 'help' each other if either ended up like David was … and his role in carrying out the poisoning. He said David had instructed him to write, and to say again, thank you. That he'd thought perhaps Ichigo would understand … because Ichigo had said he loved him. And for the same reason, he merited an explanation. Jaco was sorry for bringing pain … but he would do it over again, a hundred times, to keep his promise to his best friend. Thank you. Goodbye._

_Ichigo had sat for hours, staring at the moon and the river, trying to figure out how he felt about what had happened to David. About whether he should call the police. Finally, he did nothing. It was too late, anyway. But he still didn't know how he felt about it all. He was crushed to have his beloved one taken from him … but happy to think of him out of his prison of a body. In the end, he'd talked to the Abbot about the issue (without specifics), and had ended up feeling somewhat better. _

_And so David Sansobella secured a place among Ichigo's departed beloveds … and drove home the previously only briefly touched-upon idea that he truly _loved_ these men. And would do anything – absolutely ANYTHING – for them. He had been an accomplice to murder. And like Jaco, he would do it again, if it was what his beloved needed. A hundred times. _

_XXX_

He got to work right on time, received report, and hurried to his room. For some reason, thinking about David had made him edgy. Or was it something else? What was today … it was Monday, in about an hour it would be Tuesday.

All was well in his room. Shinji slept quietly, lying on his side, his eyes closed, breathing comfortably. In the other bed, however, Szayel was awake, reading. He looked up with a smile and put his tablet down as Ichigo came in. "Evening, Ichigo-kun," he said, looking expectantly at the oranget.

"Szayel-san," Ichigo said with a big smile. "I'm surprised to find you awake. Isn't tomorrow your big day?"

"Yes, yes," Szayel said, taking off his glasses and folding them up. "Moving out and moving on. That's why I decided to stay up tonight … so I could see you and thank you properly."

"Well, you look great. The guys been treating you all right?" He walked up to the bed and looked up at the monitor as he asked the question.

"Yes. Very much so. Renji is a lot of fun to be around … Chad's quieter … but they're both great nurses."

A tickle of alarm skittered across Ichigo's spine when Szayel said the word 'Chad'. He felt, suddenly, as though his senses were heightened, like there was some danger in the room that he could not see. Some presence. A hazard. He glanced over at Shinji, who hadn't moved, of course. All was well. "One moment, please, Szayel-san," Ichigo said, hurrying out of the room. He paused in the hall, looking to the left and right, even going so far as to sniff the air for smoke. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Quietly, but still filled with something like foreboding, he went back into room 313.

"What is it, Ichigo-kun?"

"I don't know," Ichigo said, coming back to the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just got a weird feeling."

"Goose walk over your grave?" Szayel said with a little smile.

"Huh?" Szayel explained the saying. "Oh. Maybe." They talked about Szayel's treatment, his physical therapy, the move to a regular ward tomorrow, his plans for his recovery. They were moving on to talking about what Szayel would do with his life now, when Uryuu came in to ask Ichigo to help him with one of his patients.

He was in with Uryuu, helping him turn the patient – who was a big tall man – when Uryuu said, "This guy reminds me of Chad. Tall and dark-skinned like he is." Just conversationally. But the name hit Ichigo just like before. He leaned against the patient, holding him in place, and rubbed his forehead where he suddenly had developed a headache. Chad.

Don't forget.

Don't forget to tell … Chad.

Don't forget.

Ichigo frowned. Tell Chad … to … dammit! It was coming, it was on the tip of his tongue, but then Uryuu said something else and the thought disappeared.

Fuck!

Back in his own room. Ichigo crossed to the window in order to close the blinds. He paused to look out at the night sky. Szayel was in the bathroom. Ichigo was waiting to help him back to bed when he was done. He stared out at the stars, then looked down where he could see the north parking lot and the train tracks that led into the trees to the north, silver in the moonlight.

Feeling vaguely ridiculous about his silly feelings, Ichigo turned around and straightened Szayel-san's bed linens. When Szayel called out that he was ready, Ichigo helped him walk to the bed and helped him get settled again.

"Ichigo-kun," he said, once he was safely and comfortably back in bed. "Can we, uh, have our talk now?"

"Of course, Szayel-san," Ichigo said, sitting on the edge of Szayel's bed. "What would you like to know?"

"Well, like I said before … I heard you talking to me when I was, uh, asleep. And you said you, uh, you loved me. I, um … was wondering what you meant by that." Szayel was looking down at his hands as he smoothed the sheets over his thighs. A hand came into his field of vision.

Ichigo's. He clasped one of Szayel's hands in his and squeezed softly. "I meant exactly what I said, Szayel-san. I do love you. And having you awake and well – I haven't been this happy in a long time."

Szayel looked up. Ichigo was smiling, meeting his gaze with quiet assurance. "By love, you mean …."

"I mean 'love'," Ichigo said, chuckling softly. "Is it that hard to believe, Szayel-san?"

"But … but how can … I mean, I guess I mean I don't understand. You don't know me. I might be a real asshole, I might be some kind of deviant. I … I just don't know …." Szayel's slight frown was puzzled, worried, slightly pained.

Ichigo was comforting. "I can see where you would question my words. But rest assured it's true. However, you don't have to do anything about it. It doesn't come with any ties or responsibilities, you don't have to feel forced to return it, you don't have to feel pressured to become my 'boyfriend' … nothing. I will never see or speak to you again _if that is what would make you happy_. Because that's all I care about … that you are well and happy." He squeezed Szayel's hand again, then released it.

Szayel thought about all that. Love with no expectation of it's being returned? "So … if I left tomorrow and went home to another person, you'd be okay with that?"

"If that's what made you happy, yes."

"And conversely … if I left tomorrow and then called you, asking to meet for coffee—"

"I'd ask when and where," Ichigo said, smiling.

Szayel was quiet, thinking about this. "Is this a nurse thing?"

"This is a 'love' thing," Ichigo said, chuckling.

A tentative smile curved Szayel's lips. "You're a crazy guy, Ichigo-kun," he said.

"'Fraid so," Ichigo said, grinning.

Quiet for a moment. Then they heard the soft sounds of Shinji vocalizing from behind the screen. "You've got work to do," Szayel murmured. "Thanks for clarifying. I'll, um … I'll think about things and—"

"Don't worry. I don't expect anything out of you, remember?" Ichigo said as he stood up. "Rest easy. Focus on your rehabilitation and recovery. I'll be here to help in any way that I can, all right? You need anything, you can count on me."

"Thank you."

"Any time."

As Ichigo walked around the screen to check on Shinji, Szayel relaxed on his pillows, staring at the ceiling. He didn't know what to think about it all, but he was filled with comfort. That was the only way he could describe the feelings settling softly in his chest. Like … everything was going to turn out all right. He smiled and closed his eyes.

XXX

**End Chapter 15**

**Hey! What about Chad?! ;) Stay tuned, fearless reader! More to come.**

**Ahvienda**


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